Summer
by GinnyNoTonic
Summary: Holiday plans.
1. Chapter 1

Summer

Jackson was sitting at the computer in Paddy's surgery, hammering the keyboard and irritably clicking the mouse. The last few days had been pretty dire and he needed to get away, but with no cheap flights to places he wanted to go, that was looking more and more impossible.

Aaron perched on the desk, his back to Jackson. He was scowling, although had he been asked, he might have said he was concentrating. Trying to work out what was happening between himself and Jackson. Ok, so he had been a bit of a dick recently, and every time he spoke he only seemed to make matters worse. Perhaps this was the beginning of the end and Jackson was going to dump him. Well maybe he would just dump Jackson and get it over with.

"Well for goodness sake! Look at the two of you!" Pearl bustled into the office carrying a tray with three steaming mugs of coffee and a plate of chocolate digestives. "If the wind changes you will be stuck with that face" she said to Aaron, handing him a mug and thrusting the plate of biscuits towards him, ignoring the face he pulled at her as she spoke. "And if you break that computer, young man, Paddy will have something to say about it!" she continued as Jackson hit the keyboard with an exclamation of disgust. "What are you doing anyway?"

"He's booking a holiday - alone!" Aaron chimed in scathingly before Jackson could utter a word.

"Just trying to give you some space," Jackson retaliated quickly, trying to sound reasonable, although to tell the truth he didn't feel particularly reasonable.

"I don't need space from you!" Aaron exclaimed, struggling to keep the rising sense of anguish from his voice. "It's all the rest of them!"

"Nothing personal, Pearl," said Jackson, a slight edge of sarcasm lending an unaccustomed harshness to his voice.

"It's me Mam! Cain! Paddy even! And everyone knowing that I'm… that we…" He stumbled into silence; closing his eyes before the hot stinging tears he could feel threatening behind his eyes, fell to betray him. He opened his eyes seconds later in surprise as the biscuit he had not even realized he was holding, crumpled in his hand.

For some reason the sight of the biscuit disintegrating into nothingness spoke more to Jackson than all the words Aaron had - or had not said - over the past few weeks. He had been determined to get away; sure that Aaron wasn't that bothered, and with the whirlwind that was his mother having descended on them so suddenly he had thought Aaron needed space to decide what he really wanted from their relationship; if that is what it was. It seemed to make sense to pay for his mum to stay in the B after all, he couldn't let her impose on Paddy. But as he had noticed before; what Aaron said and what he seemed to feel, were often at odds with each other and sometimes Jackson had a hard time figuring out which he should take notice of.

"And now you are leaving!" Aaron jumped off the desk and began heading through to the house, attempting to push past Pearl on the way. "Go on then! It's over!"

"Now just a minute young man!" Pearl bristled, standing her ground in front of Aaron. "Not so fast. It's a holiday he's talking about; he's not emigrating to Australia! And you!" she turned to Jackson. "Do you want to go on holiday alone?"

"Well…erm…" Jackson's brown eyes opened wide, "erm…no not really, but there has been stuff…things…I thought he would be glad of the head space."

"Well he has just told you he doesn't want it. Don't you two ever talk to each other?" Pearl tutted to herself in momentary discomfort; she hadn't meant to stray into what they might be doing, rather than talking. "So why don't you go together?"

Jackson looked at Aaron; he was leaning against the door, staring at the floor.

"Skint" growled Aaron.

"Well why don't you go camping, that can be great fun!" exclaimed Pearl.

Aaron and Jackson looked at each other; a slow smile began to spread over Jackson's face. Here was an elderly woman advising them on their love life; how mad was that! But maybe she had a point. He looked at Aaron and raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.

An answering smile slowly began to play on Aaron's lips and a glow of hope light up his eyes; his voice though, was hesitant. "We could maybe borrow a tent?" he said.

"We could put a mattress in the van!" suggested Jackson, excitement suddenly flooding through him. He grinned at Aaron. How could he ever have thought he wanted to go on holiday alone, he suddenly wondered.

All at once they were both moving; Aaron grabbed Pearl and almost hugged the breath from her in his enthusiasm before pulling Jackson's sleeve and dragging him towards the door through to the house. Jackson caught Pearl's eye as he was hurried past; "thank you," he mouthed.

Pearl silently congratulated herself as the two lads rushed from the room; she had wanted to knock their heads together for several days; now perhaps she had.

Paddy was almost dozing in front of the television; he shouldn't have had that lunchtime pint, but he was glad of the peace. The atmosphere had been tense since their guests had moved in. Hazel had gone off somewhere; Jackson had asked if he could use the office computer in the lunch hour and until he was suddenly woken by his name being called at full volume, he hadn't known where Aaron was.

"Paddy! PADDY!" Aaron rushed into the sitting room, Jackson close on his heels. "We're going away! On holiday! In the van!"

"What d'you mean? You're going away? When? How? Who with?" the abrupt disturbance confused him; for a moment he couldn't quite grasp what Aaron was saying to him.

"Me and Jackson of course! We're taking the van. Can I take the mattress off my bed?"

"Slow down a bit will you," Paddy was wide awake now, but he still couldn't take in what Aaron was telling him.

"We're going camping - well, in the van. Can I take the mattress off my bed?" Aaron was pacing the floor as he spoke, twisting his fingers together, excited agitation competing with a sudden fear that Paddy would think it a bad idea.

"But how did that happen?" He looked at Jackson. "I thought you were jetting off somewhere hot and sunny. And alone."

"Turns out that wasn't what I wanted." Jackson looked at the floor as he spoke, "what neither of us wanted." He smiled at Aaron.

"But…but..I don't understand" stuttered Paddy; nothing either lad was saying was easing his confusion. "You're going on holiday - together?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Aaron. "Isn't that what we've been saying! It was Pearl's idea; she said -"

"Pearl?" exclaimed Paddy, interrupting him; wondering what an earth Pearl could have said to transform the sulky sullen teenager into the barely contained bundle of excitement before him.

"Pearl suggested we went camping; she said it could be fun. Then Jackson said we could take the van and I said we could take the mattress from my bed. So can I take it?"

"Yes, I suppose so, but…" replied Paddy, still bemused by the sudden events.

"But my mum, Paddy," interrupted Jackson. "I'll book her into the B&B, no worries."

"No, it's ok, she can stay on here. I'll buy ear plugs," said Paddy distractedly. "But have you told Cain you are going?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Cain!

Aaron hadn't even remembered that he would have to ask Cain for time off, and with Ryan away he couldn't see his uncle letting him go.

"Come on, you won't know, for sure, unless you ask," They were walking up the road towards the garage; Jackson could see the excitement and enthusiasm draining from Aaron as he considered the prospect of asking Cain for time off. And to be honest, Jackson didn't really think Cain would let him go; the garage was far too busy.

"Oh I do," replied Aaron, sighing.

Cain was leaning in to the engine of a Mondeo as Aaron and Jackson walked up to the garage. He straightened, easing his aching back muscles.

"Can I get a couple of weeks off; we want to go on holiday?" No preparation, no softly-softly approach; emotionless now, Aaron asked the question like an automaton.

Cain glared at him, then at Jackson, saying nothing for several uncomfortable seconds.

"What?"

"Can I get a couple of weeks off? We want to go camping; in the van." Aaron repeated his request. Jackson said nothing; Cain was always a bit tricky around him although he thought, hoped, it was more because he was working for Declan than because he was going out with Aaron.

"What?" Cain repeated. "With Ryan inside and work piling up all around the place! Get in there and get those tools sorted out!"

Without a backward glance, Aaron walked into the garage; he picked up a wrench and flung it onto the workbench before leaning his weight on the bench, taking deep, steadying breaths. He knew it had been a waste of time. He could hear Cain rummaging around in the tiny office; he flung the wrench onto the floor, but it didn't make him feel any better.

"Oi!"

He hadn't heard Cain come out of the office behind him.

"I thought I told you to get those tools sorted. You'll need a bit of a tool kit with you in case of any problems. Here." He held out an envelope to Aaron. "If a holiday with lover boy will put a smile on your ugly mug, the sooner you're gone the better." He turned abruptly and walked out of the garage.

Jackson was sitting on the kerb; he wasn't quite sure what to do. He didn't feel like doing anything now.

"Oi! Twinkletoes! Go and get your van!"

"Why! What are you going to do" Aaron had followed him from the garage; his head was mince, what was going on? Was Cain really saying that he could have the time off?

"I'm going to paint it pink and cover it with glitter!" exclaimed Cain, chuckling as he saw the mounting horror creeping over Aaron's face. "I'm going to give the engine the once over while you two muppets get your stuff ready. I assume when you say you want to go on holiday you actually mean you want to go on holiday – now?"

"Well…I don't know…we hadn't…" Jackson wasn't sure what to say, what Aaron wanted.

"Yes, now!" said Aaron decisively, grinning at Jackson.

"Well in that case, will you go and get those tools sorted then," Cain said in exasperation. He watched him go back into the garage, almost at a run. Then he turned back to Jackson. "Look after him, won't you. He's not…." Cain paused and shrugged.

Without any more words being said, Jackson instinctively knew what he meant.

"Have you got my mobile number?" Cain continued.

Jackson shook his head, reaching into his pocket to get his phone and adding the number Cain reeled off.

"Call me if there is a problem. Anything. Anytime."

Jackson looked steadily at Cain. "He hasn't got you sussed at all, has he?"

"No, he hasn't," grinned Cain. "And let's keep it like that, shall we. Now are you going to get this van of yours or not!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It was early evening before they were ready to leave. The van had been transformed; Jackson's tools were tucked away at the back of the garage, Pearl had found an off cut left over from the new living room carpet she had treated herself to a few months earlier, now this covered the floor of the van. Aaron's mattress was pushed up against the side of the van; ok, it was only a single, but that didn't matter, they were used to sleeping together in a single bed. Piled on top were pillows and two downies; their two rucksacks occupied the space not taken up by the mattress. Paddy had even found them and old camping stove and Aaron had raided the kitchen cupboards for plates, mugs and cutlery. Then Paddy had produced a plastic bucket; at first Aaron hadn't known why – until he had deliberately dropped a loo roll into it and laughed as the teenager's face flushed with embarrassment. Now he was just throwing a pile of cds into the front of the van when Cain sauntered up the street.

"For goodness sake, Thelma and Louise didn't take this long to get ready!" he said.

"Eh?" Aaron looked quizzically at him.

"It's a film. A road movie. Probably not your cup of tea," explained Jackson, coming around the front of the van.

"Oh," said Aaron, none the wiser. "Chas," he said to his uncle. "Will you tell her? She's away with Carl in the lorry for a couple of nights and I don't want to get into this over the phone."

"She'll be fine, but yes, I'll tell her."

"I know, but it will be fine at full volume over the phone and…" he hesitated, unable to find the words to explain why he couldn't face telling his mother of their sudden decision to go away; he wasn't even sure he knew himself. He just knew it was part of what he was trying to escape from. "Tell her I'll text her in a few days."

Aaron climbed into the passenger seat as Jackson swung into the driver's side; he tooted the horn briefly, summoning Paddy and Hazel from Smithy.

Goodbyes were difficult; looking across at Aaron, Jackson knew he wanted to be away as quickly as possible now. He started the engine and began to pull away. They waved, but he increased the speed quickly, dreading getting caught up in endless good advice.

They turned the corner, now thankfully the mirror was empty of waving figures. Jackson could almost feel the relief flooding from Aaron with each yard they put between the village and themselves.

"Where are we going?" Aaron asked a minute or two later.

"Supermarket. You know; big building, lots of food." Jackson risked a quick glance across at Aaron. "I need you to keep your strength up!"

…..

"Cooked chicken from the deli counter for tonight; eggs and bacon for the morning; have we got a frying pan? Bread rolls…d'you like tomatoes, cucumber, that sort of stuff?" Jackson had taken charge of the shopping leaving Aaron to push the trolley.

"I think Pearl put one in; I took the smallest saucepan from Paddy's, that will do fine if not." Aaron couldn't remember when he had last been so happy; he grinned over at Jackson. "And yeah, tomatoes and that are fine; get some apples and bananas too, and cheese – oh no, that'll go sweaty."

Following Jackson up and down the aisles, Aaron smiled to himself, enjoying the view; his boyfriend really did have a cute bum! For a moment his thoughts drifted; remembering the sensation of running his fingers over Jackson's back and buttocks as he lay beneath his lover's body, being kissed and caressed almost to oblivion.

Jackson stopped abruptly and turned to face him. "Have I been talking to myself for the last five minutes? I was asking did you want to bother with tea or coffee or shall we just get coke, or lager?"

"Sorry," said Aaron, blushing a little in spite of himself, as he switched from his boyfriend, naked in his mind, to the fully clothed reality in front of him. "I was miles away."

"Well hopefully we soon will be. So what do you want for drinking?"

"Coke's fine; we can go to a pub if we want a beer."

At the checkout Aaron pulled the envelope Cain had given him from his pocket; he hadn't even opened it yet. He carelessly ripped the seal then gasped in surprise; the notes inside were fifties and there must have been at least five or six of them.

"Jackson!" he whispered, holding the ripped envelope open for him to see. "Look! I thought it was maybe thirty or forty quid – it's a fortune. Why on earth would Cain give me so much?"

"I don't know, you know him better than me, why do you think he did it?" Jackson thought he had a pretty good idea why Cain had been so generous, but for the time being he would let Aaron try to figure it out for himself.

After paying their bill, they made their way back to the van and threw the shopping into the back.

"Right or left" asked Jackson as they headed towards the car park exit.

"Eh?"

"Which way shall I turn when we go out of the car park?"

"Oh, right. Right!" said Aaron.

Jackson repeated the question at every junction, following Aaron directions faithfully

"Is this how we decide where we are going" asked Aaron, laughing, after the fourth or fifth turn.

"Yes" said Jackson decisively. "This old van doesn't run to a GPS and I didn't bring a map, did you?

"No, but my sense of direction is pretty good," said Aaron. "Do you want to go north or south?"

Jackson considered the question for a moment. "North; if that is ok with you?"

"North it is then; turn left here."

They drove for an hour or so, Aaron's instinct and the road signs keeping them away from the big towns and cities of the north. There wasn't any hurry; Aaron felt the tension leaving him with every mile they travelled further from Emmerdale. He was happy to sit quietly, listening to the music, letting his hand rest on Jackson's thigh, occasionally moving it lightly, a reassuring presence, intimate rather than sexual. He wasn't quite sure where they were, but that didn't really matter either. He must have closed his eyes for a minute; he felt the van slowing before he was aware of his surroundings.

"We've just passed a picnic area," Jackson said. "What about pulling in there for the night; unless you wanted to go to a proper campsite?"

"Yeah, go for it," replied Aaron. He had no desire for a crowded campsite; at least not tonight. Tonight solitude suited him.


	4. Chapter 4

_Just so as you know; things are getting physical_

Chapter 4

A short lane took them away from the road; there were individual bays surrounded by bushes and small trees, none occupied and Jackson pulled the van into the one furthest from the entrance. Each bay had a picnic table and it was the work of moments to find plates, cutlery and the food they had bought for their evening meal. The light was beginning to fade and amongst the trees it seemed quite dark. They sat side by side at the picnic table; their peace only disturbed by the occasional car passing in the distance.

Aaron sighed; he couldn't remember a meal he had enjoyed as much. He turned, leaning his body against Jackson. "I'd better text Paddy, let him know we are ok."

Jackson moved a little, allowing Aaron to lean his back against his chest. He put his arms around Aaron's waist, resting his head in the curve of his neck and shoulder. He closed his eyes; he could feel the tiny movements as Aaron quickly texted a brief, reassuring message to Paddy. As Aaron finished he put his phone on the table and turned on the bench, pushing Jackson back, flat onto the bench seat, kissing him gently. His tongue began an exploration of Jackson's mouth; he could feel excitement beginning to stir within him; he moved his hips against Jackson's body, tiny gentle thrusts that sent tingles through him.

On the picnic table, his phone pinged; he groaned, the moment lost. But he couldn't resist reading the text which turned out to be the very briefest acknowledgment of his message.

"How hard was it for Paddy to say so little," Jackson laughed, reading over his shoulder as Aaron held the phone for him to see. Jackson stood, turned and offered Aaron his hand to pull him up.

"Are we going to try this mattress out then," Jackson said, pulling Aaron towards him in one fluid movement.

"Sounds like a plan to me," smiled Aaron. Even in the twilight, Jackson could see his eyes twinkling. "Do we have any water; I wouldn't mind giving my teeth a clean first?"

"Nah, sorry, we're not that organized.

"No worries; tomorrow will do."

They climbed into the van, pulling the doors closed behind them. There wasn't enough height for either of them to stand up and precious little floor space to move in and for a moment or two there was a confusion of bodies and limbs as they tried to move around each other.

"Just lie down will ya!" exclaimed Jackson

"What! Like this?" Aaron flung himself down onto the mattress, then lay with his hands behind his head and looked challengingly up at Jackson. He moved his hips again, ever so slightly, but the movement wasn't lost on Jackson.

"You can be such a cock tease."

"Yeah, but you love it!" Aaron moved one hand and ran it slowly down his chest, never taking his eyes away from Jackson's dark, lust-filled ones.

Suddenly Jackson was on his knees, straddling Aaron, capturing his two hands and pushing them into the mattress above his head. His mouth found Aaron's, he kissed him – hard – his tongue sliding into his lover's mouth; moving against his tongue, pushing and teasing, nipping and sucking.

Jackson released Aaron's hands and began to tug at his tee-shirt; within seconds both lads were naked, tumbling amongst their downies, half on, half off the mattress. Jackson recaptured Aaron's hands; holding them tightly as he stretched himself along Aaron's body, almost lying on top of him.

"Just relax for a minute," Jackson breathed between kisses. "Enjoy it…let me…have you." Jackson felt rather than heard the deep, shuddering breath that Aaron took to calm himself; he felt his muscles soften, but he saw the tiny flicks as his tongue dampened his lips. Kissable lips.

Jackson moved, pushing Aaron's legs wide apart with gentle pressure from his foot. "I'm going to let go of your hands," he whispered, "but don't move them just yet." He looked at his face; his eyes were closed but Jackson knew he was listening to him, both with his ears to his words and with his body to his touch.

Jackson gently trailed his fingertips down Aaron's chest, his flat stomach, almost further...but not yet. With every stroke, every feather-light touch Jackson could sense Aaron becoming more and more aroused, and not just in the obvious swollen, excited straining of his cock; he knew his skin was beginning to tingle, beginning to be on fire.

Jackson bent his head and began teasing Aaron's nipples with his tongue; he felt them harden, felt Aaron's body shift slightly towards him. Moving again, Jackson turned so that he could bury his face in Aaron's groin, sliding his own leg across Aaron's chest, his throbbing cock imprisoned between their bodies. He slid his lips around Aaron's hard cock, he could taste him, tease his tongue into his slit, begin to swallow him.

Suddenly Aaron's hips thrust forward; his hands moved, pushing down on Jackson's back then sliding around his waist, allowing his cock to go deeper into Jackson's throat.

Jackson moved; feeling Aaron's mounting excitement, knowing he was about to cum in his mouth he slid his hand under Aaron's buttocks, pulling him even deeper.

All at once he had more cock in his mouth than ever; shuddering, exploding, Jackson could feel Aaron's climax over taking him; could taste him, was swallowing his cum.

With a last, shuddering breath Aaron spent his load. He tugged at Jackson's shoulder, pulling his round, hugging him, holding him, burying his face in his lover's chest.

Gently Jackson cupped Aaron's face with his hands and looked into the swimming blue eyes.

"Tears?" he whispered

Aaron shook his head. "Just...I don't know...I can't help it...that was..."

Jackson hugged him closer, kissed his head. "Sshh, it's ok."

"I know," Aaron looked up at Jackson, tears gone, his eyes sparkling. "Did you pack the lube?


	5. Chapter 5

_There's a bit more of the physical stuff going on again._

Chapter 5

Jackson stirred; for a moment he didn't remember where he was but the growing realisation that he was awake, yet aching and uncomfortable, reminded him that they were in the van. And of the night they had spent. He moved his hand, reaching for Aaron; reaching further, still he couldn't find him. He opened his eyes. He was alone in the van.

Quickly pulling on his jeans and a tee-shirt, he climbed into the front seats then slid out of the door. Rounding the van, the picnic table came into view; and Aaron.

Jackson watched his lover for a few minutes; Aaron hadn't noticed him, he was concentrating on the frying pan he had balanced on their small gas burner. Smiling suddenly, Jackson noticed that he was just wearing a tee-shirt and boxers; just as well it was still early and they were alone in the picnic area.

"Morning," he said, quietly coming up behind him and sliding his arms around his waist, enjoying the feeling of his firm body hugged close. "Hey, that's my boxers you are wearing!" he exclaimed, pinging the waistband.

"It's all I could find and didn't want to wake you. You can have them back if you want," Aaron looked over his shoulder at Jackson, raising one eyebrow suggestively.

"Nah, you're fine. Just get on with the breakfast, I'm starving." Jackson let go of Aaron and swung himself up to sit on the table. "You can cook then, can you?" he asked.

"Course. Well it's only a fry-up, anyone can do that."

Jackson raised his eyebrow questioningly at Aaron's confidence.

"You could find me trackkies if you want to be useful."

"No, not really!" laughed Jackson, "I'm enjoying the view."

Aaron turned back to the pan, wiggling his arse provocatively.

"You watch the sausages; I'm going to find a tree to pee behind."

Jackson wandered away from the small clearing. It seemed amazing that it was only yesterday lunchtime, less than twenty-four hours ago, that he was planning a holiday alone. Thank heavens for Pearl! And Aaron! Jackson smiled to himself; the edgy, tense and occasionally aggressive lad seemed to have evaporated overnight, although Jackson knew it was just a mirage caused by the distance between Aaron and Emmerdale. The miles were a safety net; no one they met would know him, expect anything of him or have anything invested in him. He wandered deeper into the trees and scrubby bushes that surrounded the picnic area and did what was necessary. Exploring a little further, he found a small stream; low after the dry summer, but there would be enough water to freshen up after breakfast.

Back at the van, he threw the downies from their tumbled, dishevelled heap back onto the mattress; he found Aaron's trackkies and took them and bread rolls and juice out to the table.

"That does actually smell very good," he complimented, peering into the frying pan. Aaron had the sausage and bacon piled onto a plate and was just frying the eggs. He quickly scoped the first two onto the plate and Jackson began filling the rolls.

"Okay, so you can do a mean fry-up," said Jackson between mouthfuls.

"It's not bad, is it," agreed Aaron, tucking in. "What's the plan for today then?"

"I'll phone my insurance after nine, get you on so we can share the driving. Then what? Still head north? Where abouts are we anyway?"

"Somewhere near Thirsk I reckon; maybe we should get a map after all."

"Yeah, okay. I found a stream over there, beyond those trees; we can rinse the plates there and get a bit of a wash ourselves."

Aaron pulled a face. "I rather like the smell of sex and sweat on you."

"How come you've turned into such a slut overnight," laughed Jackson.

Aaron's face became suddenly serious; "It just feels so different, y'know; so easy, being away from them. I know Paddy says he's fine, and with you staying over; but me mam is still trying to get her head round it – God, she should be in my head sometimes! And Cain just won't let it go; he's always got some comment or other. What?" he demanded as Jackson smiled.

"Nothing, I just don't think you should worry about Cain, about any of them, so much."

"Easy for you to say! It's not you they are gawping at; well...yes...ok, it is. But sometimes they are just too much; like they are always waiting for me to cock it up. And I don't usually disappoint them."

Jackson was quite, thoughtful, for a moment or two. "Well maybe, now, you just have to be big enough to give them something to gawp at; they know you're gay; they love you, you don't have to hide or be ashamed of your feelings."

"But what would they think?"

"They might think that I am a very lucky man," said Jackson, his eyes sparking with sudden mischief. "And they'd be right! Now can we forget the deep and meaningful and can I have that slut back?"

"If you are very, very lucky," Aaron leaned over and gave Jackson a quick, teasing kiss before pulling away and beginning to gather up their plates.

...

The plates rinsed in the stream; Jackson quickly began to pull off his tee-shirt and jeans.

"What're you doing?" questioned Aaron.

"I told you, having a wash." Naked now, Jackson smiled at Aaron, invitation in his large brown eyes.

"But someone might come," Aaron spoke hesitantly, well out of his comfort zone.

"Yeah, they might," replied Jackson ambiguously. He scrambled down the slight bank left by the lower water level. He shivered momentarily as he stepped into the water, cold despite the days of sunshine, it was deeper than he had expected, reaching up to his knees. He crouched down and began splashing the water over his body.

"Oh bugger it!" muttered Aaron and quickly removed his clothes. "God that's cold!" he exclaimed as he slid into the water; cupping his hands he lifted water to his face and scrubbed. Seconds later he nearly squealed like a girl as freezing water was hurled against his warm back. Jackson wasn't quick enough to escape; Aaron's hands instinctively flashing out to catch him, pull him to him, then twist so they both splashed full length into the water. The coldness caught their breaths, released their laughter. Aaron scrambled up, reaching to pull Jackson up with him before they flung themselves onto the grassy bank.

Once out of the water, the sun beginning to gain strength in the sky; began to warm them. For a few moments they lay quietly, getting their breath back.

"I can't believe I am doing this," said Aaron without moving.

"Dosn't look like you're doing very much to me," teased Jackson.

"Just lying here...in the scud...with my boyfriend. And anyone could appear at any moment."

"Relax, it's still early." Jackson rolled onto his side, facing Aaron, and propped his head on one hand. He reached out and ran his fingers lightly across the underside of Aaron's arm; exposed as he lay with his hands behind his head. He leaned towards him, closer, until their lips met.

Suddenly they were kissing, devouring each other; Aaron pushed Jackson back onto the grass and rolled on top of him, crashing his mouth harder than ever onto Jackson's lips, pushing his tongue between his lover's teeth, twisting and teasing against Jackson's tongue; feeling his cock growing harder by the second – and knowing his arousal was mirrored by Jackson's own.

Still kissing, he reached down and began touching Jackson's cock; feather light touches at first, then firmer, more demanding, feeling it pulsing under his attentive fingers.

"God, I want to fuck you Jay!" he exclaimed. "You are just so damn hot lying there; I need to touch you, slide my fingers into you, then fuck you silly. I want to cum inside you; fill your arse with my cock and cum, and ride you till you beg me for mercy, till you are sore from being fucked; till you know you've been fucked." He spoke quickly, urgently; the words tumbling over each other. Telling his lover what he wanted to do, what he was doing, turned him on; the sex was in his head as much as it was in his cock and his arse.

"That's it Jay, touch me too, take me in your hand; God you make me so hard Jay! You are such a turn on." He kissed him again, passionately, ferociously; his hand rubbing between Jackson's legs, teasing his arse, feeling it tense, then relax, at his touch, ready to welcome his cock.

Moving a little, Aaron positioned himself carefully; "Are you ready Jay? Ready for me to take you? Ready for me to fuck you?" All the time he had been speaking he had felt Jackson's excitement growing; felt the tension in his body, heard the small, groaning noises of pleasure and anticipation his lover made.

His whole body quivering in anticipation, Jackson couldn't hold back any longer; he moved his hips, arching them towards Aaron, silently begging him to take him.

Aaron eased a finger into Jackson's arse, in and out a time or two, feeling the tight hole relaxing, preparing to take another finger, moving harder now, deeper, faster and then he was pushing his cock in. Damn! Jackson was still tight; he'd been too quick, too eager, but he couldn't stop now, he had to push harder and faster.

He felt as much as heard the gasp of pain as his hard cock ripped into Jackson; he almost tried to stop and pull out but suddenly Jackson was thrusting in rhythm with him, their bodies united in their urgency and desire.

"I'm gonna cum, Jay! Now! Inside you!" Aaron gasped as shudderingly he came, clinging close to his lover as his body spent every ounce of his strength. Almost simultaneously he felt Jackson begin the deep thrusts of his own orgasm. Aaron grasped Jackson's cock, pumping hard as Jackson came over his hand.

Physically spent, emotionally racing, they collapsed back in the grass, lying side by side, holding hands, fingers entwined in the stickiness of Jackson's cum. Slowly, deliberately, Aaron raised their hands; shifting slightly, he brought their linked fingers to his mouth and very delicately began licking the cum off them.

"Aaron! Don't!" groaned Jackson.

Aaron paused and looked questioningly at Jackson.

"Your hands are so gorgeous; the way you speak with them turns me on so much; let alone what you just did with them." He moved, turning into Aaron's arms, "Hold me for a minute will you?"

Saying nothing at first, Aaron pulled Jackson close, hugging him tightly, enjoying the feeling of being strong for Jackson. Usually Jackson had to be strong for him; deal with his baggage and insecurities.

They lay for a while, until Jackson pulled away. "Thanks," he said.

"You ok?" questioned Aaron, concern clouding his blue eyes.

"Yeah, just needed your manly mechanic strength for a minute," he replied. "I'm fine, honest. Gonna have another dip though."

Flinching at the cold of the water against the heat of their bodies, both lads splashed vigorously, enjoying the tingling freshness. Carrying their clothes they began walking the short distance back to the van.

"Shite!" exclaimed Aaron as the picnic area came into sight. "There is another car there; what are we gonna do?" He began to flush a deep red as he spoke.

"Nothing, just keep going," grinned Jackson, holding his tee-shirt against his groin. "Just act naturally and they'll not even notice." He increased his pace a little, pulling in front of Aaron.

"Hey! Wait for me!"

Suddenly they were both running through the scrubby grass toward the van, any notion of protecting their dignity forgotten in their haste to be back in the van.

Laughing they flung themselves in the back door and onto the mattress, unsure if they had escaped being spotted, but for once, thought Aaron, it really didn't matter.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The two lads poured over the road map they had bought. It hadn't taken them long to work out where they were; on the edge of the North York Moors, just east of Thirsk. Leaning on the bonnet of the van, Jackson pointed with his finger.

"We can head to the coast if you want; Whitby, Scarborough?"

"I'd rather keep going north," replied Aaron, peering intently at the map. "Out of Yorkshire feels good to me." He took a long drink from the plastic bottle of milk he held. "What about heading back to the A1, up as far as Scotch Corner, then jumping off onto this little road, then picking up the A68 north."

"Fine by me," Jackson smiled at him, enjoying his excitement at planning their journey. He glanced at this phone; his insurance company had said they would text him a confirmation message when Aaron had been added to his insurance. It had cost a fair bit, but he didn't care, he knew Aaron would get a buzz from driving him about. Yes, the envelope icon was there; he quickly scanned the message then threw his keys at Aaron.

"There you go then, you're legal to drive; but no racing mind, this old van doesn't do speed."

Aaron grinned at Jackson as he caught the keys. "You ok reading the map though?"

"I'll manage" replied Jackson. "I can probably cope with putting a CD on too. C'mon. Let's hit the road." He closed the map and lifted himself into the passenger seat of the van.

They only had a few miles to travel on the A1, although it had seemed long enough as they trundled up in the slow lane. Aaron was glad to turn off on to the smaller road; he could enjoy the drive now, rather than worry about all the mad muppets in their fancy cars whizzing past him.

They talked, but about nothing in particular; they looked about themselves, pointing out anything that took their interest. They were silent, a comfortable silence Aaron thought, glancing quickly at Jackson; his breath catching in his chest as he looked at his lover, lost in his own thoughts, gazing out of the window.

He looked again a few minutes later; Jackson was sleeping, slightly curled away from him. Aaron smiled to himself, he felt great; Emmerdale, his family, all the pain and uncertainty of recent months seemed a million miles away. For the moment, nothing mattered but him and Jackson, and he had two weeks of not having to worry about anybody but Jackson. Two weeks to get his head together, two weeks to make it up to Jackson for all the shite he had put him through. Two weeks to learn not to be scared when he said he said, aloud, or in his head, 'I am gay'.

...

Jackson slept for an hour; Aaron drove steadily, not wanting any sudden movement on his part to disturb him. Eventually though, he pulled into the car park of a small cafe. Jackson stirred and stretched as the van came to a halt.

"Sorry, didn't mean to be so boring," he said.

"Nah, you're fine," replied Aaron, smiling at him. "It was kinda nice, looking after you while you were sleeping; keeping you safe."

"Ahh, you're such a softie," teased Jackson, leaning over and ruffling his short, spiky hair.

"Give over," growled Aaron, trying to sound annoyed and failing miserably as Jackson leaned into him and began to kiss him gently but insistently on his lips. He couldn't help himself but respond, melting deeper into his embrace.

"Mmmm, stop," said Aaron eventually, pulling away leaving his lips with the tingling memories of the firm pressure of Jackson's own lips. "I need to go to the loo – no way am I using Paddy's bucket! You want coffee?"

They wandered into the cafe; Jackson found a table and ordered while Aaron went off to find the loo. He was leafing through a pile of leaflets, two large, steaming mugs of coffee in front of him, when Aaron came back.

"What's all this?" questioned Aaron as he slid in beside Jackson.

"Things to see, places to go; picked them up from the rack over there." Jackson nodded in the direction of a stand full of similarly bright leaflets. "What do you normally do on holiday?" he asked.

"Dunno," replied Aaron, considering the question for a moment. "I don't think I've ever been on a proper holiday before. A couple of school trips, years ago; stayed with me mam in Emmerdale for a summer when I was about 9. That's it. You?"

"Ibiza a couple of times with mates. Sun, sand and...and they had the sex! Too much drink, can't remember that much about it, to be honest. Not great." He paused; "I want to remember every moment of this holiday," he said. "So any of this take your fancy? He pushed the pile of leaflets towards Aaron.

Aaron flicked through them half-heartedly, feeling a little out of his depth. He hadn't considered how they were going to spend their days, only that they would be together.

"What sort of stuff are you interested in? What do you like doing?" asked Jackson, seeing him floundering. They hadn't ever had a conversation about their interests, hobbies, even what books they read, if they read; what music they liked. Real life had been a bit mad recently; mad, stressful and pretty horrible at times, Jackson reflected; but now they had days stretching before them, real life suspended. No intrusions from family and friends and he wanted to use that time to begin to get to know his boyfriend properly.

"We're not that far from Hexham, how about aiming for there. We don't have to decide about anything else just now," he continued, smiling reassuringly at Aaron.

Aaron nodded, hugging his coffee cup close to him. He couldn't have explained to Jackson precisely what he felt at that moment, but the coffee was calming him and Jackson wasn't demanding any answers or decisions.

...

The car park was deserted when they returned to the van; Aaron still had the keys and made his way to the driver's side but he was surprised when Jackson followed him then leaned sideways against the van. He slid his arm around Aaron's waist and pulled him towards him.

"You still owe me a kiss," he murmured, his lips finding Aaron's, gently at first, tasting the coffee he had recently drunk; then demanding more, demanding dominance of his mouth, his tongue.

He moved, pushing Aaron hard against the van; Jackson leant his arms either side of Aaron's head; moving his mouth from his lovers lips to begin nuzzling his neck. He could feel Aaron arching beneath him, tensing his body, pushing himself hard against him.

"Got a taste for doing it outside after this morning," he whispered between kisses. "So now, I'm gonna have you, right here, against the van."

Aaron groaned, he couldn't believe Jackson's brass neck, coming on to him in such a public place. But his body was betraying him, wanting Jackson, needing him, needing to feel him touch his cock. Even as he accepted his kisses Aaron felt Jackson's hands caressing his body; over his chest, briefly rubbing his hardening nipples, then down, gripping his buttocks.

A tug! Suddenly his trackkies were down; down enough to release his straining cock. He could feel Jackson's hand encircling him, beginning to pump, increasing his need and excitement. All thoughts that they might be seen were banished from his mind; all that mattered now was the feelings overwhelming him; the need devouring him, the pleasure his lover was giving him.

Eyes closed, he felt Jackson drop to his knees and take him in his mouth. He didn't want to cum yet, wanted to prolong the feelings, but Jackson was urging him on with his actions, hands and mouth together taking Aaron higher and higher.

"Sorry Jay!" Aaron gasped, pushing his hands into Jackson's hair and twisting his fingers into his curly hair. "You're so good...but I just need...to fuck...the face off you." His body convulsed with his thrusts until he reached his shuddering climax.

Jackson took all his lover's cock as he thrust deeper and deeper into his mouth, He felt the explosion of his orgasm, tasted the cum flooding out of him, swallowing it greedily. Releasing Aaron's cock, Jackson stood, hugging Aaron close to him, feeling him relax with the physical release. With one hand, he raised Aaron's head from where it rested on his shoulder; he kissed him, sharing his cum.

"Thank you so much," whispered Aaron. "Ah, you are so good. But what about you? Shall I..."

"Later," smiled Jackson. Truth be told his cock was aching for some attention, but he had got a thrill taking Aaron as he had and he wanted to leave Aaron with the exclusive moment. Besides, he knew they wouldn't be able to keep their hands off each other for long.

"C'mon, I'll drive."

_Thanks for all the great reviews and for the mention on DS last night :)_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

There was a large car park close to Hexham town centre; they had seen a couple of possible places to park up overnight as they drove into the town, but had wanted to be nearer the centre as they went off to explore.

Wandering through the historic streets, Aaron would have liked to slip his hand into Jackson's; there was no reason why he shouldn't, he didn't have to worry about anyone he knew seeing them, but he wasn't ready to be quite that demonstrative in public just yet. But their hands touched occasionally, fleeting caresses of skin against skin, over in seconds, followed by a glance, a smile of shared delight and intoxication.

Jackson didn't mind – well not too much – he knew Aaron needed to sort things in his head at his own pace, challenging his own logic. And to be honest, it was often safer not to be too blatant; even if he did fancy the lad walking next to him something rotten!

The road lead into a small market square with permanent covered stalls lining one side of it, half hidden from view by parked cars. But dominating the area was the warm stone of Hexham Abbey.

"There has been a church in this area since 674AD" read Jackson from one of the leaflets. "That's over thirteen hundred years. D'you mind if we go on for a look?"

Aaron looked at him quizzically, his nose and lip curling in puzzlement. "Didn't know you went in for all that God stuff."

"I don't particularly, but I do quite like church buildings; the architecture, stone work. You coming?"

"Bit of a busman's holiday then, isn't it," mumbled Aaron, following him anyway.

Their eyes took a moment to adjust to the contrast from the bright sunlight to the soft, mottled light inside the Abbey. Jackson paid a couple of pounds for a guide book and began wandering, examining walls, window frames in great detail; stuff Aaron couldn't get interested in. He followed him for a few minutes then flung himself in one of the wooden pews. It was a minute or two before Jackson noticed he wasn't behind him and retraced his steps.

"You ok?" he questioned, slipping into the seat beside him.

"Yeah, fine. You go and enjoy yourself. It is actually quite nice, just sitting here." Aaron smiled, meaning what he said. Sometimes it really did feel like he lived his life in a goldfish bowl, time alone was a rarity, unless he was sulking in his bedroom. Here he could almost feel the peace radiating from the building. Besides, he could see Jackson was enjoying himself and he wasn't going to spoil that for him. He watched Jackson wander away from him, then closed his eyes; he couldn't remember the last time he had set foot in a church although Ashley had tried to hold a service when his granddad died, it was in Zac and Lisa's back garden so it really didn't count.

Damn! He hadn't meant to think of his granddad; of the harsh, unkind things he had said the last time he saw him. He sighed; nothing could put that right now.

"If these walls could talk, what tales they could tell."

The quiet voice behind him made Aaron jump

"There will be nothing new to them; no surprising virtue or flaw in human nature that they have not seen before. And they still stand; unshocked and unshockable. I'm Finn."

"I'm waiting for someone," Aaron took a deep, steadying, breath. "I'm waiting for my boyfriend."

"As it happens, so am I."

Aaron turned then, but he didn't see the man sitting in the pew behind him, he saw the dog collar, surprise flooding his features.

"God! I know! A gay vicar; it was very shocking to some of the parish ladies. I bribed them with my expertise at tray bakes, me and Nigella. That's the TV cook, not my other half."

"How did you know that...about me?" Aaron questioned, feeling suddenly sick.

"I didn't. Switch the gaydar off when I'm in uniform" he pointed to the dog collar "and it doesn't seem to be tattooed on your forehead. I saw a young lad sitting alone in my church, thought I'd come and say 'hi'. Finn Nicolson." He held his hand out towards Aaron.

"Aaron Livesy."

The firm grip caught Aaron rather by surprise. He turned further round in the pew and looked more closely at the man behind him. He estimated him to be in his thirties, kind of chunky; a smiling face topped by what could only be described as a mop of curly blond hair.

"Pleased to meet you Aaron. You here on holiday? I don't think I have seen you around the town."

"Holiday, yeah. We just set off yesterday. We're kinda travelling about, nothing planned."

"Sounds great!" enthused Finn. "And home is?"

"Emmerdale," he sighed quietly to himself as he said it; he had been trying to banish all the intrusive thoughts of home and real life, enjoy the moment. "Yorkshire," he elaborated.

"And how is it?" Finn spoke quietly now; he hadn't missed the subtle signs of distress when Aaron named his home village.

"It's ok...small." Aaron had turned away from the priest and was gazing into his lap, his fingers twisting at the cord of his trackkies.

"And is that a problem?"

"No...well a bit."

"Are you able to tell me anymore?"

Aaron looked up at Finn, hesitant; unsure whether he should go on. He tried to look into his eyes, to read what he was seeing there, but the dappled light revealed only luminous pools, yet they seemed to be inviting him in.

"If we talk - about the serious stuff I mean - it stays between us. I am as solid and unshockable as these walls."

The quiet voice was gentle, reassuring. Aaron took a deep breath; he could feel the floodgates within himself opening.

"I didn't want to be...gay; I couldn't be gay."

...

Time meant nothing, it was irrelevant, it passed; it stood still. Aaron couldn't have said how long he talked, how many tears flowed when he spoke of Paddy and Jackson; the tears that had flooded his eyes and fallen still lay on his cheeks, but he didn't wipe them away. Quiet sobs had wracked his body when he remembered the blows he had rained down on Paddy as he struggled to help him to admit he was gay. And how wonderful it felt when Paddy took him in his arms and told him that it didn't matter; that he loved him. And still he had tried to betray that love by ending his life, not understanding. Yet he smiled too, through his tears, when he spoke of Paddy and Jackson; Paddy, the father he never had, the best father he could ever have; the best friend he knew he could never push away, who he would love until his dying day. And Jackson! Enduring and at last understanding the reason for the physical pain he had caused him, forgiving him, having faith in him, his faithfulness allowing him to grasp redemption. He loved being with him, although he knew he had often made it difficult for Jackson to enjoy his company. He spoke, for the first time, of the beauty he saw in Jackson, the revelation, just dawning, that Jackson wanted to know his mind as well as his body, the caring and the desire he saw as he gazed into the dark luscious chocolate pools of his eyes; to be so wanted was amazing, awe-inspiring, terrifying. To feel so safe in his arms that he never wanted to leave them was something he had not expected. He spoke to himself as much as to the priest, exploring memories, teasing understanding from confusion, releasing demons. And all the while Finn's gentle voice guided his exploration and wove a magical spell of comfort around him.

...

Jackson rounded the corner – and wondered who was sitting so close to Aaron. Ok, so it was the row behind him, but they were obviously deep in conversation. Aaron was twisted in his seat, elbows resting on the back of the pew, his fingertips steepled against his lips when he wasn't speaking.

Jackson slid into the seat beside Aaron and was heartened to see his face light up at his arrival. But there had been tears; Jackson recognised the flood of recent emotion in his blue eyes. He pushed his knee against Aaron's leg, just for a fleeting moment, but it was enough, a silent message of reassurance.

"Jackson! This is Finn. The Reverend Finn Nicholson. Finn, this is Jackson Walsh, my boyfriend." For a moment Jackson was speechless; he didn't know what had surprised him more, Aaron speaking to a reverend, or being introduced so firmly as his boyfriend. But there was no time to consider the matter; his proffered hand was being grasped in a firm grip.

"Aaron and I had just discovered something in common; we were both waiting for our boyfriends. Mine's gone on the Tescos run, which I have to say, is always a bit of a worry as he comes back with lots of bags but nothing to eat, if you know what I mean. Aaron tells me you are a builder Jackson, what do you think of the Abbey?"

As Jackson fell into an easy conversation with Finn, Aaron relaxed; where had all that come from? How had he ended up spilling so much of himself to a complete stranger? He was content now to sit and listen to the quiet murmurings of Jackson and the priest. He felt curiously light headed after the unexpected outburst of emotions. He might have had a few pints except he had had nothing stronger than coffee all day. But something was different, something within himself, he couldn't quite put his finger on it, except, perhaps he was feeling just a tiny bit more comfortable in his own skin.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Cheese burger and cheesey chips, burger and chilli chips" the dumpy young barmaid leaned low over both Jackson and Aaron as she placed their meals in front of them, her skin-tight, scoop-neck top leaving little to the imagination.

"Thanks," said Jackson. "He's chilli, I'm just cheesy" he smiled as he swapped the plates over.

"Enjoy your meals and see you later," she flirted.

"Not if we see you first and run," muttered Aaron, scowling at her as she disappeared through a swing door.

"Be nice," laughed Jackson, "she's not to know the fittest bloke in the place is taken."

"It was definitely you she was eyeing up," countered Aaron, tucking into his plateful of food.

"No way," replied Jackson firmly, "you've scored there!" laughing even more as Aaron's scowl deepened across the table.

She appeared again to clear their empty plates "Would you like any sweets?"

"Not for me, I'm sweet enough," grinned Jackson, "can't say the same for my mate here though; he needs something sweet to put a smile on his ugly mug," his smile became even wider as Aaron glared at him.

"The sticky toffee pudding is awfully good, love," she preened and tweaked her tight top, flaunting her considerable assets. "With cream or ice cream," she purred.

"Nah, you're fine" growled Aaron, not daring to meet her eye. "Can I get a shot of your pen though?"

"Course," she giggled, placing it on the table in front of him, leaving her fingers lingering on it for a moment longer than necessary. Getting no response from either lad, she flounced away, the merest suggestion of a huff in her demeanour.

Aaron pulled the postcards from their bag which had been lying on the table, choosing one, he wrote Paddy's name and address, then, where the message should be written, he drew a huge smiley face, signing it 'A & J' Looking up, he blushed a little, seeing Jackson watching him.

"Well I'm not going to write 'having-great-time-wish-you-were-here' am I?" he demanded.

"S'pose not," smiled Jackson, watching as Aaron drew a smiley on a second postcard, this time adding a large bone before addressing it to Clyde. Cain and Chas each got the smiley face

"You can do Pearl's," said Aaron, pushing the remaining two cards towards Jackson. "She likes you."

"Well she likes you too!" protested Jackson,

"Nah, she definitely twinkles around you," teased Aaron. "You're her gay best friend!"

"So long as she doesn't want to come clubbing with us, "replied Jackson, "I'll cope!"

"Not sure I want to go clubbing with you, "said Aaron, pulling a face. "You might do better going with Pearl."

"Oh cheers babe! Great boyfriend you're turning out to be!" Jackson exclaimed teasingly. "Go clubbing with granny – not. I'll get you on a dance floor yet."

"In your dreams," retorted Aaron, unable to stop himself laughing as Jackson raised his eyebrows challengingly. "Another pint or shall we just head?"

"Let's get a couple of cans each and take them back with us."

Aaron went up to the bar, settling the bill and buying the cans. He wouldn't have minded staying for another pint but he had had enough of Miss Flirty Barmaid.

"Hope you enjoyed your meal," she gushed as Aaron handed over the money. "See ya around."

"No," replied Aaron firmly, "you won't."

Walking away with Jackson at his side, Aaron slid his hand over his boyfriends arse; looking back over his shoulder, he smirked at the expression of shock on the barmaids face.

...

By the time they got back to the van the light was beginning to fade. With the back doors open, they sat opposite each other and with little passing traffic; there was nothing to disturb the evening peace.

Aaron dug his phone from the depths of his pocket and began busily pressing buttons. Until he lifted his hand and began waving it round to find the best signal, Jackson had thought he was playing a game on it.

"Who're you texting?" he asked.

"Me mam."

Jackson raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Thought I'd better before she starts texting or ringing all the time."

"She'll appreciate it."

"Come outside where it's lighter and I'll take a photo to send too," said Aaron, jumping out of the back doors.

Jackson followed him; moving to the brightest spot, they hugged each other closely and Aaron held the phone at arm's length. "Say 'cheese!'" he said and clicked.

"What a pair of muppets," laughed Jackson as they looked at the photo.

"Well one muppet and one drop dead gorgeous builder," said Aaron. "I'll send it to Paddy too." His phone pinged, then pinged again confirming the picture had been sent twice.

Aaron grabbed his can and sat back on the floor of the van, looking out. From their lay by, he could see way down the road, empty of traffic now.

"Jackson," he began, determined to satisfy his curiosity. "Have you ever been with a girl; y'know, done it?"

"Yeah," laughed Jackson. "Once or twice, but it was just cabbage sex."

"Cabbage sex," repeated Aaron, puzzled.

"You know, as a kid, when your mum tells you don't know that you don't like cabbage until you try it; well that's cabbage sex, making sure you don't like it!"

"So you're sure you're gay then?" teased Aaron.

"Erm, well maybe I had better just check; drop your kecks and I'll see if I get turned on," he laughed.

Aaron smiled, but didn't move. "So how did you know you were gay?"

"Usual," Jackson shrugged. "Felt different, always suspected - well, since I understood what it meant anyway - confusion, horror, denial," he looked at Aaron, "you're not the only person ever to not want to be gay."

"But you're so sorted," said Aaron, bemused.

"Just further down the road."

"But how did you get there?"

"A damn big push from my mother! She reckons she always knew. I was about 16, acting up, in the middle of a big row, yelling, screaming, that sort of stuff, she shouts 'you're gay, Jackson, get over it!' So then she decides that she needs to introduce me to the gay scene. Anyway, the head of department at the school she was in at the time was gay, so there's her, Aunt Polly, this chap and me slogging round all the gay pubs and clubs in the area." He shook his head at the memories. "Mum and Aunt Polly loved it, of course, the poor chap was totally shell shocked by the pair of them. Needless to say, I soon decided I could go into gay bars and clubs by myself. Met him several times after though."

"You went out with him?" questioned Aaron.

"Nah, far too old and not my type, but he's a decent bloke though; still get the odd text."

"So what is your type then?" asked Aaron teasingly.

"Oh, about 6 foot tall, on the chunky side, dark eyes, never covered in engine oil!"

"Git!" exclaimed Aaron, launching himself onto Jackson and rolling him onto his back. "You are so for it!"

"Well I was ready for it about two hours ago, but you said you needed to get a pint and food."

"Like you didn't want something to eat too?"

"I would have been happy eating cock," he teased, pulling Aaron closer and claiming his mouth, kissing him hard.

"Maybe you'll get lucky then," gasped Aaron as he surfaced for air. "But for now I just want to rip the clothes off your back...run my hands all over your body...turn you on..."

"Don't rip this tee shirt; it's one of my favourites, "interrupted Jackson, beginning to tug at his clothes.

Aaron's hands joined his, pulling first at his tee shirt, then his jeans. "You are so gorgeous, Jay," said Aaron, gazing at his lover's naked body, marvelling again at the passion and joy they could arouse in each other. Why had he ever wanted to fight against it? Banishing the difficult thought to the back of his mind he quickly he rid himself of his own clothes.

Pushing Jackson back onto the mattress, Aaron began kissing him; long leisurely kisses, tongues teasing each other. Lying along Jackson's side, half on top of him, Aaron nestled his upper leg between Jackson's. He slid his arm under Jackson's neck and captured his distant arm; kissing again, his free hand moved over his lover, finding his nipples, caressing one, nibbling the other, feeling them respond, harden. Moving lower, his hand beginning to tease his cock, but not too much, not yet.

"Patience, Jay," Aaron breathed. "We've only just started and I'm gonna make you feel so good. You're gonna cum for me, Jay; again and again, but not yet. We've got all night."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – Meanwhile back at the Woolpack.

"PADDY!"

The Woolpack was busy but Chas's strident tones cut across the conversation at the bar. Paddy cringed and looked to Marlon behind the bar, and Cain, lifting a pint beside him, for support.

"Where's Aaron? I just got back with Carl, and Edna – EDNA! – said that him and Jackson are away. Together."

"Well…erm…yes." Paddy blustered, swivelling his head between Marlon, Cain and Chas at her incandescent best.

"Well why didn't you stop him. And you!" she slapped her brother on his arm. "Why did you give him the time off work."

"Calm down Chas, why shouldn't they go off together." Cain said, scowling at her.

"Why not! You know what they're like! One wrong move and Aaron will be laying into him again."

"No, Chas, you're wrong," said Paddy, trying to reassure her. "That won't happen again, Aaron isn't going to hurt Jackson again and maybe some time away from Emmerdale will help him come to terms with things."

"Well where are they staying?" She took a long, needy suck at the straw stuck in the half of lager Marlon had placed in front of her.

"They're travelling round. Camping. It was Pearl's idea," said Marlon.

"PEARL!" shrieked Chas. "What did she have to go sticking her nose in for?"

"Oh Chas! Listen to yourself will ya!" growled Cain, his patience at an end. "You can't try and tie him to your apron strings now – you're eighteen years too late for that. Let him be; let him make his mistakes. He'll be fine and Jackson will look after him."

"Jackson!" exclaimed Chas scornfully. "He was the cause of all Aaron's trouble."

"No Chas, he wasn't," said Cain firmly. "He lit the blue touch paper and got caught in the explosion; but he didn't make Aaron gay. But he might help him come to terms with it; for some reason he seems to think the sun shines out of the lad's backside." He paused, shaking his head. "Erm...no... I...erm... well you know what I mean!" he exclaimed gruffly.

"Well I'll just text him, check he's alright," she said, reaching into her bag for her mobile.

"No, leave him be. He said he would text you in a few days. He'll be fine but if there are any problems, Jackson will get in touch; he's got Paddy's number and mine."

"Yours?" queried Marlon, hanging over the bar.

"Emergencies only," he said firmly. "Now Paddy; are we playing darts?"

...

In the event, Chas almost missed the ping of her mobile phone. Charity had joined her at the bar; changing from lager to spirits had not eased her belligerence and her ill temper rumbled on until in exasperation Val told her in no uncertain terms to cheer up or get out. Doing neither, she flounced to a table as far from the bar as possible and continued moaning – without pausing for breath – to her cousin.

"Oh Chas! Give it a rest, will you!" exclaimed Charity eventually. "They'll either be fine or they won't. Was that your phone?"

"Yes, but... Oh!" She picked up her phone. "Paddy! PADDY! It's a text, from Aaron!"

Paddy bumbled over from the darts boards. "What does he say then?" he asked.

"'Having a great time, glad you're not here. Love A.' Awww. Cheeky sod!" Chas smiled fondly at her phone as her irritation evaporated.

Another ping; Chas looked hopefully at her phone but Paddy pulled his from his pocket.

"He's sent a picture, look."

Chas's face fell; her few seconds of excitement dashed to smithereens. But even as Paddy held his phone towards her, her own pinged again.

She grabbed it convulsively; suddenly it seemed of life-threatening importance that her son had sent her a picture too.

"Ohhh, he sent it to me too. Shame Jackson is in it too." Even with the evidence that he was thinking of her, she could sill complain, imply that it wasn't enough.

"Yes, but Chas," said Paddy quietly, "look at him, he's happy. Even his eyes are smiling. When did you last see him look like that? Twenty four hours they have been away; what does that tell you?" He paused, but Chas couldn't find an answer for him. "It's not being gay that's the problem; it's Emmerdale; it's us."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Jackson stirred, stretching into wakefulness; in a comfortable way, he was uncomfortable; he shifted position a little, yes, there were definitely places he knew Aaron had been. He looked at his lover, still sleeping peacefully, his face relaxed and thought how incredibly young he looked, even with a few days growth of stubby beard. He was tempted to kiss him, waken him, but that wouldn't be fair; it had been late before they slept and was still early now. He shifted again, tucking his arse into the curve of Aaron's body, snuggling in as deeply as he could, feeling his lover shift to surround him, his arm falling forward, capturing him. Soon he slept again.

...

"So what's the plan for today?" Aaron was sitting in the passenger seat of the van, sharing the last of their biscuits with Jackson. "We need to get more food and what about finding a camp site for tonight; I wouldn't mind getting a proper shower."

"Ok", said Jackson slowly, looking at the map, "how about heading to the Roman fort at Housesteads; it's right on Hadrian's Wall, having a look round there, then going back to the A68 and heading north into Scotland"

"Sounds good to me," said Aaron, holding out the last of the biscuits.

"You're sure? Anywhere you want to go, just say."

"Yeah, I'm sure," replied Aaron, smiling at him. "I'm just happy to be away from all my family and their prying eyes; get away from one and another pops out. It's like they are checking up on me. Maybe they've got me tagged or micro-chipped so they always know where I am!"

"Mostly it's because they care, you know," said Jackson quietly.

"I know," Aaron sighed, "but it can get so claustrophobic; sometimes I feel as though I just can't breathe. It just makes me freak a bit, that's all."

"Maybe it'll be different when we get back," said Jackson, trying to sound hopeful and encouraging.

"Yeah, maybe," said Aaron, not convinced. "Right! C'mon, get in and drive. And put your foot down."

...

It was an Aladdin's cave of shop that sold everything and they emerged loaded. Enough food to feed an army, two fold-up canvas picnic chairs, a small plastic water container – already filled by the shopkeeper – a football, pack of cards and a couple of magazines. Aaron couldn't believe such an out of the way shop sold Gay Times and to Jackson's amusement he quickly covered it with a car magazine when Jackson threw it into the trolley; disappearing for a moment as it went through the checkout.

Following the signs to Housesteads Roman Fort, the countryside became emptier, treeless, beautifully stark. There were a number of other cars in the car park but few people as the fort itself was an uphill walk away. The wind hurled itself around them as they got out of the van.

"Wow! That's amazing!" exclaimed Aaron, jumping down. Lifting his phone he took a couple of photos. "Can you chuck me a hoodie out," he called back to Jackson, "it's freezing!"

"Ah, you're a real tourist now," grinned Jackson, coming round the side of the van with their jumpers, "taking photos."

"It's what folk do on their holidays, isn't it," replied Aaron. "Just wish I'd taken some of the first place we stopped."

"I think you were a bit too busy to worry about taking photos," teased Jackson, his eyes sparkling at the memory.

Aaron blushed. "I didn't notice you complaining."

"Oh believe me, I wasn't! C'mon."

They paid their entrance fee and had a cursory look round the museum before heading up the windswept hill to the remains of the fort. The gusting, howling wind buffeted them as they fought against it to climb the hill, whipping the breath from them, taking their laughter and releasing it to the elements.

"Are you going to drag me to look at stone buildings and ruins every day this holiday," laughed Aaron, pausing for breath as they reached the first of the ruined fort buildings,

"Yeah, kicking and screaming if I have too," declared Jackson. He grabbed Aaron's arm and tried to pull him onwards. For a moment Aaron resisted being pulled, letting Jackson's hand slide down his arm until their hands met and he caught his fingers in his own.

Jackson looked at him; Aaron smiled back reassuringly, gripping his hand tighter. For a moment nothing else existed around them; the stony remains spreading over the hillside; other visitors wandering through what was once a Roman fort on the outskirts of civilisation; they could have been alone as their eyes held each other.

"I'll never kick and scream against you, Jay," Aaron said, suddenly serious. "Well, not unless you tie me up and cover me in chocolate!" he added, trying to break the unexpected moment of intensity before it overwhelmed him.

"Wow! That's a date then!" Jackson grinned cheekily at Aaron. Suddenly, before Aaron could protest, he pulled him towards him and kissed him quickly, full on the lips.

Maybe it was the open, empty landscape, the elemental wind, the isolation; but Aaron didn't protest. The kiss could have lasted for eternity and at that moment, Aaron wouldn't have minded; nothing mattered but Jackson, everything that mattered was Jackson. There was nothing to think about except the moment. Aaron returned the kiss, deep and heartfelt.

Returning to awareness, Aaron couldn't help but look around and couldn't help but be relieved that no one seemed to be taking any notice of them.

"It's ok, we've not got an audience," said Jackson, noticing his anxious glances. "I maybe wouldn't do that in parts of Hotton on a Friday night, but here everyone is too busy trying to keep upright in this wind to worry about us having a quick kiss."

"Sorry, just feel a bit...exposed," said Aaron, smiling sheepishly. "C'mon, lead me to these ruins then."

...

Aaron flung himself into the back of the van, glad to get out of the ferocious wind. He had enjoyed wandering round the ruins more than he expected, the loos were brilliant, though it was kind of hard to get his head round the idea of Roman soldiers sitting there, doing their business, so many hundreds of years ago,

Jackson leapt in behind him, collapsing onto the mattress.

"That's better!" he exclaimed, "that wind is something else! Do you want to eat here or go somewhere more sheltered?"

Aaron raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"It's only cheese butties on offer, pal," laughed Jackson, "I'm a bit tender for anything else just now."

"Oh Jackson! I'm sorry!" exclaimed Aaron, instantly contrite. "You should have stopped me."

"No way! You're too damned good. We'll just have to be a bit more imaginative tonight!"

"I'm sure I'll think of something," responded Aaron cheekily.

"Oh I'm sure you will; you're a perfect slut!"

"Only for you babe, only for you," smiled Aaron. "Although if you don't move off that mattress, I might not be able to stop myself." Jackson pushed himself to a sitting position at Aaron's teasing words. "Oh well, I've got a few hours to think of something. Have we got any chocolate?"

...

Usually Aaron didn't approve of pickleless cheese butties, but by the time they had driven away from the exposed position of the fort and found a sheltered place to park up for lunch, he was ravenous and thought he had never tasted anything so good. They had set their two picnic chairs up beside the van; the little gas stove between them and were now waiting for a saucepan of water to boil for coffee.

He looked across at Jackson, a smile touched his lips. What a difference a week, a month, a year had made. Every minute was a rollercoaster, but just now he felt...amazing. There had been so many changes in his life in the last year, and he knew he was a long way from being comfortable with all of them. He wished he could see into the future; a few months ago he had told Paddy he never wanted to go to bed with a man, to fall in love. He had done one, and it was magical, so different from what he had expected; and the thought crossed his mind that he might be well on the way to the second.

"Jackson," he began hesitantly. "I just want to say...well...thanks...for everything...for sticking with me. I mean...I know I'm not the easiest person...and..."

Jackson moved, crouching beside Aaron's chair, hugging him. "Hey! Where did all this come from?"

"Nowhere; just saying." He gazed into the dark eyes of his lover, saw sudden concern etched there. "It's ok...just a passing moment."

"Oh come here," Jackson stood and pulled him to his feet, pulling him closer, feeling him rest his head against his shoulder.

Their bodies moved together; for the moment, they didn't need words.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The road had been climbing steadily for a couple of miles; Aaron knew from the map that they were getting closer to the border but he wondered if it would be marked in any way. Jackson was driving, allowing Aaron to gaze out of the window, the hills were mostly treeless, allowing amazing, panoramic views; occasional dark patches of densely packed conifer plantations showing stark on the hillside. It was beautiful with the sun shining, but no doubt would be bleak and desolate in winter. So different from Emmerdale too; he shook his head slightly, trying to rid himself of thoughts of the village. He was enjoying being away from the stifling, suffocating atmosphere, feeling free to be the person he wanted to be; could he ever be that person in Emmerdale? Could he be comfortably gay in Emmerdale?

His attention was brought back to the moment with the click of the indicator as Jackson prepared to turn.

"We're at the border, look." He swung the van into a large lay by and found somewhere to stop amongst all the other cars parked up.

They jumped out of the van; it was windy again but not as ferocious as at Housesteads. A large standing stone further up the lay by had the single name, 'Scotland' emblazoned on it. It was acting as a magnet with people milling about, standing in front of it to be photographed. Grabbing his phone from the dashboard where it lay and disconnecting it from the charger, Aaron slid from the van and joined Jackson, walking towards the monolith.

"Out of Yorkshire, now out of England," grinned Jackson. "Do you think you've escaped the Dingles yet?"

"There's probably MacDingles lurking about somewhere," laughed Aaron. "Better not let Uncle Zac know where we are or he'll be on the phone to them! C'mon, stand by the stone and I'll take your picture."

They made their way close to the standing stone, waiting for other folk to clear away after taking their pictures. Aaron clicked a couple of times; Jackson leaning on the stone, Jackson pointing at the name on the stone.

"Here! Give me your phone and I'll take one of the two of you."

The voice behind him made Aaron jump; turning he saw a chap, not much older than himself, disentangling his arm from his girlfriend.

"Thanks mate," said Aaron, handing over his phone. "Do the same for you." He moved next to Jackson and put his arm round his neck, hoping he looked suitably bloke-y, then he felt Jackson's arm sliding round his waist, gently pulling his hips closer…oh what the hell!...he leant in closer than ever.

They were soon on the road again, heading north, gradually dropping down from the exposed borderlands to the first Scottish villages and towns across the border.

"We could stop in Jedburgh and look at the ruined Abbey," said Jackson.

"What!" exclaimed Aaron. "More piles of old stones! Ok, tell me where to go then"

"Only teasing!" Jackson grinned at him. "There is a ruined Abbey, but we'll give it a miss."

"You sure? I don't mind."

"I'm sure, but thanks." Jackson reached across and rubbed Aaron's leg briefly. "How about heading up to the coast here, east of Edinburgh? Be about 50 miles or so.

"Sounds good to me."

…..

It was late afternoon when they pulled into a campsite; they could tell from the map that they were near the sea, but it wasn't until they stopped and opened the window and could smell the tang of salt in the air that they realised just how close they were.

A grizzled old codger came out of the booking hut to meet them. "Just this van is it lads. How long you staying for?"

"Just the one night, thanks," said Aaron, looking back over to Jackson, who nodded in confirmation.

"Not needing electrical hook ups? No, call it a fiver then. If you go to the right, to the far end, you'll find some nice bays. I'll give you a marker so if you go out later you can reserve your bay. There's a path to the left, there, walk into town in 10 minutes or so."

Following instructions, they drove slowly to the right, passing all size and shapes of tents, caravans and camper vans; the first part of the site was busy but they kept going and soon the campers thinned out a little. They picked a spot as far from other campers as possible and jumping out of the van, began to have a look around.

"We'd better put something over the front windows tonight," laughed Aaron, "wouldn't want to give anyone a fright!"

"Yeah, and you'd better be quiet when we…you know."

"What d'you mean?"

"Aaron! Unless I am fucking your face you are never quiet when we have sex! You chatter all the way through it; what you wanna do to me, what you are doing to me, what you want me to do to you, what it will feel like for me, how it will make you feel!"

"I do not!" exclaimed Aaron, blushing furiously.

"Oh yes!" laughed Jackson. "You do! Hey! I don't mean I don't like it! I've never had anyone play with my head at the same time as they are playing with my body quite as much as you do; it turns me on no end. But quiet, you ain't babe!"

"Oh god! I'll try and stop." Aaron clamped his fingers over his mouth as he spoke

"No, don't stop. Just whisper!" Jackson leaned over and pulling his fingers away, began to kiss his lips.

Moving apart, Jackson grabbed Aaron hand and pulled him back into the van. "See! Just talking about it makes me want you. Feel." He directed Aaron's hand to his groin, letting him feel his growing cock through his trousers.

"Mmmmm, nice," breathed Aaron, "but could be nicer, like if you lose the jeans." He tumbled Jackson to the mattress and fumbled at his button and zip; Jackson eased his slim hips up as Aaron tugged his jeans down.

Stretching on top of Jackson, Aaron began kissing him again; teasing his tongue with his own, he could feel his cock beginning to ache for attention. He sat up, straddling Jackson and pulled his tee shirt off; lifting his bum, he easily slid his trackkies down a little with one hand before kicking them away.

"You need to lose the tee shirt, Jay. I love you naked, being naked with you, your skin next to mine…oh shit! I'm doing it, aren't I? Talking."

"Yeah babe, you just can't help yourself!" Jackson laughed quietly, moving until they were kneeling, leaning into each other, kissing again. When they broke apart to breathe, he pushed Aaron face down onto the mattress.

"My turn now," he whispered, "to tell you what I'm gonna do," he leaned along the length of Aaron's back, his lips so near Aaron's ear that he could feel Jackson's warm breath. "I'm gonna play with that cute little hole of yours, finger fuck you, first one finger, then a second, get you ready to take me inside you." He felt Aaron groaning beneath him, pushing his hips backwards, grinding against his swollen cock. "Then I'm gonna fuck the arse off you. I'm gonna cum inside you, and if you're good for me, really good, I might swallow that hard cock of yours and let you cum in my mouth."

All the while he had been speaking, he had been running the fingers of one hand up and down Aaron's side, now he slid his hand under his hips, briefly gripped his cock, felt Aaron's desperate need, knew he wanted him to bring him off there and then, but oh no! That wasn't part of Jackson's plan at all. Aaron would just have to be patient.

His hands either side of Aaron's hips; he lifted his arse a little and knelt behind him, rubbing his swollen cock hard against his crack. Dropping, he brought his tongue to Aaron's hole – and felt his sudden shudder as his tongue first made his hole pucker then relax. Now his fingers began to join in; Aaron groaned as first one then a second entered him. But fingers were only a tease, a taster, as Jackson pushed his cock against Aaron's moist hole he struggled not to come the moment he entered; then overwhelmingly urgent, the need to push, to thrust, to possess everything that was Aaron.

Aaron wasn't sure what was going to explode first; his head filled with the pictures Jackson had painted or his body with what his lover was doing with hands, tongue and cock. All he knew was that he'd never felt anything like it before, he was soaring, his body didn't belong to him anymore, it belongs to Jackson; he was Jackson as Jackson became him. There were stars in his head as he came...again and again and again.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

They lay, exhausted, in each other's arms; breathing heavily, their bodies glistening with sweat and sticky with cum. Aaron still lay on his front, but Jackson's arm was underneath his chest, elbow bent, hand resting on his shoulder. Jackson lay spread eagled on his back, his eyes closed. For long moments, neither of them moved.

"Jay….." Aaron began hesitantly, "that was….magical." He paused. "Jay, it's not just the sex, is it? Between us?"

Jackson moved; pulling Aaron round to face him, finding his eyes flooded with unshed tears. He raised his hand and with his thumb, gently wiped each eye, then trailed his fingers softly down Aaron's face.

"Sex with you is…is amazing. But it is just the icing on the cake. My body aches to be touched by you but my heart wants to be loved by you far more. I look at you and jump for joy inside to have you in my world. I see you upset and want to fight the demons tormenting you. I lie in your arms and feel safe; you lie in mine and I would defend you with my life. The icing is a gift, but it is the cake that matters. Every time."

Aaron moved in closer than ever, resting his head on Jackson's chest; he couldn't have looked into those soft, brown eyes just at that moment; that really would have opened the floodgates. Jackson had stopped speaking but his words hung in the air, allowing Aaron to hear them again and again in his head, allowing him to believe that they were true. At that moment, he never wanted to move again; never leave the cocoon of safety, never face the real world again. He just wanted to be with Jackson and not worry about what other people thought or felt or said.

Content to lie holding his lover, Jackson gradually became aware that Aaron's breathing had changed; he had fallen asleep. Reaching with his free hand, Jackson pulled one of the downies over them, then dropped a gentle kiss onto Aaron's head, smiling as his spiky hair tickled his lips. He thought about what he had said, he meant every word; yet he knew too that they were living in a charmed world, cut adrift from reality. They had to go back to Emmerdale eventually, life wasn't about running away but facing things. He had to help Aaron face Emmerdale and all it held and meant to him.

They both slept; but it was still light when they woke. Aaron stretched, his movement waking Jackson. He smiled, almost shyly after the passion and shared emotion, at Jackson, returning to wakefulness.

"Oh god! I stink!" said Jackson, raising his arm and sniffing. "We need to find the showers before we do anything else."

"S'pose so," agreed Aaron, sitting up. "Can you see my trackkies anywhere?"

…..

They found the shower block on the far side of the campsite and were pleased to find there was a laundry too; they would get their clothes washed later.

It was empty when they went in; Jackson went into the first cubical, Aaron was about to go into the one next to him when Jackson grabbed him and pulled him in after him.

"You'll have to come in with me – we've only got one shower gel," his eyes sparkled wickedly as he spoke.

Aaron grinned and followed him in.

There wasn't a lot of space, but there were hooks to keep their clean clothes out of the way; the clothes they had been wearing, they just dropped to the floor.

The water was hot and plentiful, filling the small space with steam and they stood close together under the water, relishing the refreshing downpour.

Aaron poured a generous measure of shower gel into his hands and rubbed them together, but instead of beginning to lather his own body he placed his hands flat on Jackson's chest. Holding Jackson's dark eyes with his own, he slowly he began to slide his hands over his lover's body, pausing to rub his thumbs teasingly over his hardening nipples, then down to his waist, his hips, pulling them into his own.

They began kissing, their bodies sliding against each other; Aaron held Jackson close as his kisses became more urgent, more demanding, their tongues battled for supremacy, the tumbling water pouring down onto their faces.

Jackson moved his hips a little, easing enough space between their bodies for his hand to find Aaron's cock. He didn't think he had meant this to happen but he didn't want to stop it now. Aaron was hard already; he was sure he was too, but his cock was pushed against Aaron's hips; but oh! grinding against his bones felt so good. He began thrusting, gently at first, his body moving smoothly, then urgently, against Aaron, the heat between them increasing, his hand pumping Aaron, feeling the tension in him growing, knowing that any moment their passion would overcome them both...

Afterwards, holding each other tightly, they stood, just letting the water cascade unceasingly over their entwined bodies.

The outside door to the shower block crashed open.

"Try the loo, then you need to do your teeth before bed. Go on, I'll wait here."

"But Daddy, I..."

"Go and try."

Aaron nearly choked on the water pouring down onto them as they heard the voices coming into the block.

"Daddy, I can't do anything."

He clung to Jackson, trying to stifle his coughs in his shoulder.

"Ok, as long as you've tried. Come and give your teeth a good scrub."

More water began running; the sound of hearty scrubbing and enthusiastic spitting followed. Aaron suddenly felt deep shudders wracking Jackson's body...he was laughing! He found this funny!

"Shiny teeth, Daddy."

"Wow, Charlie, they are shiny teeth. Right, come on, back to the tent."

"Daddy? Daddy! Why are there four feet under that door?

...

To Aaron's relief, there was no one about when they emerged from the shower block a short while later; he half expected to see some kid lurking, watching to see who the four feet belonged to.

Back at the van, he volunteered to organise them some food while Jackson went off with all their dirty washing to investigate the laundry. Rummaging through their bags of shopping he knew there was fresh pasta that they needed to eat first, and there was a jar of pesto too; that would be fine with some of the cheese left from lunchtime.

The light was beginning to fade as they ate but the day had been so fine that the twilight was clear and slow in darkening.

"Fancy a walk to find the beach?" Jackson asked after they had finished. "We can't be that far away."

"Yeah, that would be nice," smiled Aaron.

They walked out of the camp, following the path the old codger had told them of earlier; it was a bit of a scramble in places down a steepish slope but soon they found themselves on a quiet lane, they only had to cross it to be on the beach.

Not too far in the distance they could see the lights of the town, cheery and welcoming, but they had the beach to themselves.

"C'mon, lets paddle!" exclaimed Jackson, beginning to take off his trainers and socks.

"It'll be freezing, "countered Aaron, but he followed Jackson lead and began removing his trainers too.

Dropping his trainers on the sand, Jackson grabbed Aaron's hand as he dropped his trainers. "C'mon!" Pulling him, he ran towards the water, both of them splashing into the cold, shallow waves breaking on the shore.

Grabbing him, Jackson pulled him into a melting kiss. Neither of them noticed the moon sliding out from behind a cloud.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The rattling train was taking them towards Edinburgh; they had paid for another night at the camp site and left the van there; they would never have found parking in Edinburgh that cheap. If they could have found a place to park at all; it was Festival time and the city would be mobbed.

The railway line followed the coast fairly closely; Aaron had flung himself into the window seat when they got on the train and had resolutely gazed out of the window ever since; ignoring Jackson.

He hadn't had a good night, his sleep disturbed by troublesome, distressing dreams that he couldn't quite remember yet felt haunted by; he had felt edgy and unsettled ever since he woke up. He had been abrupt and grumpy every time Jackson had spoken to him. They had eaten breakfast; Jackson had tried to make conversation, Aaron replied in monosyllables, not looking at Jackson. He couldn't have coped with the hurt and confusion he knew would be reflected in his dark eyes. The hurt and confusion he was causing.

Now he watched the sea; flashing glimpses between buildings and then visible for several minutes before disappearing behind the next small town. He watched the sea, but didn't see it. He held his body rigidly still against the movement of the train, but his head was buzzing; thoughts and feelings tumbling over each other, one on top of the other, relentlessly, remorselessly. Then he found that if he stared at the window in a certain way, he could see Jackson's reflection; he closed his eyes, he couldn't look, he couldn't bear to. Fiercely he clamped his jaws together and tried to breathe; tried to silence the sobbing that filled his head; he couldn't let it escape.

The thirty minute journey lasted an eternity; Aaron wished it could last forever, wished he could be somewhere else, wished he could turn back the clock, one day, two days. He had had two perfect days.

There was no break between the buildings now, no glimpses of the sea; the train was entering the city, nearing its destination; there was no escape.

When the train came to a halt at the platform, Jackson didn't move at first, letting the bulk of the pushing passengers, desperate to leave, fight their way off first. As the surging crowd left, he stood and joined the departing stragglers; without looking behind him, every straining nerve in his body told him that Aaron had followed him. He allowed himself a small sigh of relief.

Jackson didn't know where he was going; he could see the exit signs to get out of the station, but that wasn't what he wanted. Then he saw the large covered cafe area; that would do. Towards the back he saw the sign for the toilets and made for that, feeling rather than seeing Aaron beginning to hesitate behind him. Turning suddenly, he grasped his sleeve and, almost dragging him, pulled him along beside him. At the barrier he flung a handful of coins at the attendant then pushed Aaron through in front of him and into the gents.

The unmistakable smell of stale pee lingered in the air; too many men missing the spot. All the urinals were in use but Jackson shoved Aaron further into the room, into a cubical; it was tiny, but he didn't care, he followed Aaron in, squashing him as he shut the door.

For a moment he said nothing, just leaned against the door and looked at the floor. Part of him wanted to shout and scream, scream out the sudden hurt of the last couple of hours. Part of him was angry, the stupid, insensitive part of him, but he couldn't help himself.

It was claustrophobic in the tiny space as they both tried to find gaps between them that weren't there. Jackson began to feel himself beginning to breathe more rapidly, but whether it was caused by the small, confined space or the tension of the moment, he couldn't have said.

He raised his eyes, but they didn't meet Aaron's still downcast ones.

"We need to talk about this." His words were quiet, gentle; his body was still, yet at that moment all he wanted to do was take Aaron in his arms and hug away whatever was troubling him. Resolutely he kept his arms by his side, his fists clenched.

Aaron said nothing, just shook his head, a tiny movement that Jackson might have missed had he not been watching him intently now

"Oh yes, Aaron! We do!" he spat the words out, sudden, flaring anger overwhelming him, his usually gentle brown eyes blazing "For fuck sake Aaron! Yesterday I opened my heart to you, damned near told you I loved you. I thought everything was fine between us...that maybe you felt the same...at least I hoped you did. That having survived – literally - the crap of the last few months, we had a future together! And now this! What the hell have I done wrong? You could at least tell me that!"

Aaron lifted his hands to cover his face, pushing his fingers into his eyes, trying to stop the tears as he slid down the wall until he was crouching. How could he explain what he didn't really understand himself...when he could hardly gather a coherent thought together.

"It's not you...you are...amazing," he whispered.

As quickly as it had flared up, Jackson's anger evaporated and he slid down the wall until he was opposite Aaron, their knees crashing together in the confined space. Daring to reach out, he put his hands on Aaron's shoulders, gently uncovering his tear-stained face.

"We do need to talk...about whatever this is. But not here, eh? Will you come with me?"


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

They emerged from the station into the bright sunlight; irrationally Jackson felt that the weather had no right to be so sunny, grey skies and teeming rain would have suited his mood better. But at least they didn't have to run for shelter. The road in front of the station was nose to tail traffic jammed up behind the lights. Aaron had said to Jackson that he would go with him, so he didn't look to his side or behind himself to check that he was there but dived across the road, weaving between the stationary cars, trusting Aaron would follow.

It was hard work pushing between the crowds of people, everyone hurrying about their own affairs. A man in a kilt was filling the air with the plaintive wail of bagpipes; fighting with the engines of buses and cars for supremacy. Jackson skirted the crowds gathered round him then took the path away from Prices Street and into the gardens. There was more room to move here, the crowds spreading or stopping to admire the view across to the castle. Without pausing, Jackson walked on, past the Scott Monument, unsure where he was going until he spotted a take away coffee stall up ahead; that would do.

There were plenty of benches in the gardens, most were taken, but one on the lower level was free. Now at last he turned to Aaron.

"Grab that bench, I'll get coffee."

Aaron acknowledged Jackson's words with a brief nod; he hadn't said anything since they left the loos in the station, although to be fair, thought Jackson, he hadn't given him any opportunity. He watched Aaron for a second; god! he wished he knew what was going on in his head. How the hell did he handle this?

He turned into the kiosk, leaned on the chest high counter and ordered the coffees. He watched the performance involved in making the two coffees; he would have ordered two more, twenty more, if he thought the time spent watching the ritual would have given him some idea what to say; some inspiration.

He walked slowly down the steps to where Aaron was sitting and handed him the coffee; if nothing else, it gave him something to focus on, to be distracted by.

Jackson said nothing; he didn't even look at Aaron and had no sense of Aaron looking at him. The silence stretched. Jackson closed his eyes briefly; Aaron had never felt so far away from him, but if he was aware of the distance, what must Aaron be feeling?

"What's this about, Aaron?

For a moment he thought Aaron wasn't going to answer.

He shook his head, small, slow movements. "I don't know."

"That's crap and you know it," Jackson whispered quietly. "If you won't talk to me there's nothing I can do to help."

"I can't."

"Can't! Or won't!" Jackson exclaimed angrily, unable now to keep his own pain and distress in check. "I'll tell you what the problem is, you're scared shitless. You think you're tough, a hard man! But real men don't like what you like, do they? Cos you like it up the arse! You can't even deny it! These last few days, how many times have I had you? Fucked you senseless! And you've had me; had your cock down my throat and up my arse. And loved it. Loved it all. But yesterday I crossed a line, didn't I? Told you how I felt about you. Did that force you to think about how you felt? Or was I getting too close so that you had to push me away? And why? Because you're scared and too much of a coward to accept that you're gay."

He stopped speaking; he couldn't look at Aaron. He blown it; he knew Aaron had had a tough time coming out. Shit! He'd been forced to come out and now here he was, calling him a coward; he was anything but that.

"I'm sorry, Aaron" he whispered, his voice catching on a sob. "That was so unfair of me; I shouldn't have said that." At last he turned to look at Aaron.

His arms were wrapped round his knees, catching them up to his chest, his heels resting on the edge of the bench. Tears slowly slid down his face.

"You're right Jay," he whispered. "About everything. Well almost everything I am scared. So sacred I can hardly think straight. I love you and I'm terrified to love you. And yesterday, when you came so close to saying you loved me, I felt wonderful. But then, last night, in the dark, suddenly I started thinking – my head started buzzing – and I panicked. Still panicking now; and I don't know what to do." He stopped speaking.

For a few minutes neither of them said anything; each lost in their own thoughts. Jackson knew his own mind was racing; he couldn't imagine the chaos that Aaron was enduring.

He moved slightly on the bench, easing himself a little closer to Aaron. He didn't know if it was the right thing to do; it might alienate him even further. He reached out and pulled Aaron toward to him, enclosing him in his arms.

...

It had been the right thing to do.

Neither could have said how long they sat there, quietly at first; then gradually Aaron had tried to find the words to explain all that was going on in his head, exploring the rollercoaster his life had been over the last few months, edging his way through the tumult of emotions that had played havoc with his mind over the last few hours.

Jackson let him speak, saying little himself at first, hoping that Aaron was making sense of his feelings as he spoke. For a while he wondered if he had pushed him too far, too fast; thinking he was comfortable and coping with being gay, being with him; maybe he had demanded too much of him before he was ready.

Aaron glared at him then, when he suggested as much. "I don't do anything I don't want to do," he said. "I just needed to get my head round some stuff."

"If it would be easier without me..." said Jackson quietly.

"No!" exclaimed Aaron quickly. "It would be...devastating...without you. I just panicked, and now I feel like a right dick."

"You're far from that," Jackson risked a small smile.

"Yeah...well," Aaron's lips curled very slightly at the corners as he returned the smile. "Listen, do you mind if we go back, I don't think I want to be in the city just now."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Thankfully the rail service along the east coast was frequent and they didn't have to wait long for a train. The return journey was almost as quiet as their earlier one had been, but as they exchanged one or two hesitant, watery smiles, Jackson knew that things were very different between them from that earlier trip. He hoped Aaron was feeling better; after finally getting him to talk to him as they sat on the bench, he had lapsed into silence again as they returned to the station and made the journey back to the campsite.

Jackson fished the van keys from his pocket. "Do you want to drive?" he asked, hoping that having something to think about, to concentrate on, might stop Aaron dipping even deeper into his own thoughts.

"Yeah. Thanks" replied Aaron, taking the keys from him. For a second their finger tips touched, their eyes held each others. A small smile quirked Aaron's mouth. "Put something cheerful on the CD player, eh?"

"Sure thing," Jackson paused. "It's ok, you know."

Aaron looked into his warm brown eyes; he couldn't have seen the care and concern, and yes, the love, more clearly within them if Jackson had carried a banner with it written in three foot high letters. How the hell had he got so lucky?

"Thanks." He took the keys and went round to the driver's side of the van. Leaning on the door for a moment he took a deep, steadying breath. He had nearly destroyed everything; how the hell could he have been so stupid?

As Aaron pulled carefully away, Jackson looked through the pile of CDs. The bright cover of one caught his attention, 'Sounds of the 80s', he flipped it over; Duran Duran, Dexy's Midnight Runners, Culture Club, Soft Cell, Adam Ant, Blondie...yeah, this might count as cheerful but where on earth had Aaron got this from?

"It's Paddy's" Aaron said quickly, as though Jackson had asked the question aloud. "But yeah, it's a cheerful CD."

They had the music blasting out, filling their heads, as the first part of their journey took them on the by-pass around Edinburgh. Aaron was glad; between it and concentrating on the traffic, he had no chance to drift off into the darker places of his mind.

Jackson navigated; as they came to a major roundabout to the west of the city they had a decision to make. "Perth or Stirling?" he asked.

"Stirling," replied Aaron.

"Follow the signs for the M90 then," directed Jackson.

In the end, they by-passed Stirling and continued heading north. Through a couple of villages and a small town and they began to relax as the countryside changed, becoming emptier, although there was still a fair bit of traffic for late afternoon.

They had had glimpses of a river following the road for a mile or two, then rounding a corner, a wider, calmer stretch of water came into view. In the distance a sign gave Aaron enough warning to see the turning into a large, loch side parking area and he pulled in.

"This ok?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's nice," nodded Jackson.

There were a few cars scattered about the place; people who had spent the day paddling and picnicking. And a couple of camper vans, perhaps planning on spending the night there too. Aaron steered as far from them as he could before tucking the van close to some bushes with the back doors looking towards the loch.

Jackson jumped out of the van; he figured perhaps Aaron would like a moment or two to himself, to gather his thoughts together, to adjust from having to concentrate while driving to being still, and with him. He didn't wander far, just to the edge of the water, he could still see the van if he looked back. It was a really beautiful place; across the loch the mountains rose straight out of the water, trees covered the lower slopes. He crouched, dabbled his hand in the cold water, then cupped his hands and scooped up a handful and splashed his face.

He wandered back to the van; Aaron had put their chairs out, found a small plank of driftwood to give a flat base for their gas stove and was scrabbling through bags, trying to decide what to make to eat.

"I thought we had better have something," he said, explaining unnecessarily.

"Thanks," replied Jackson, "what is there?"

It was rather a strange combination of food Aaron proposed, but Jackson was content to let him busy himself; he could probably sit at ease better than Aaron just now. He lifted his magazine from the van, but just sat with it on his lap, watching the last few cars leave. Outside one of the camper vans a small bonfire was being lit; he watched several people feeding it driftwood.

Aaron handed him a can of lager and dropping into the second chair, pulled the ring of his own can.

"I'm sorry, Jackson," he said, gazing down at his hands, cradling the can.

"Hey! It's over, it was just a...a moment...and we've sorted it. Haven't we?"

Aaron lifted his head then and met Jackson's eyes, smiling to hear him saying 'we' rather than 'you'.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so...we have."

...

The light was fading by the time they had eaten, finding themselves surprisingly hungry once they began their meal. The increasing darkness almost hid the approaching people until they spoke.

"Hi! I'm Erin, this is Lucy. Do you want to come and join us at the fire?"

"Umm...well," began Jackson, hesitantly.

"Yeah, that would be really nice," interrupted Aaron, speaking over the top of him. He caught Jackson's eye, wordlessly reassuring him.

"Bring your cans," said the girl introduced as Lucy.

Aaron reached into the van for a couple more cans, then shutting the door, but leaving the chairs outside, they followed the two girls to the fire.

There were four people already gathered around the fire; in its bright light Lucy quickly introduced two lads, Toby and Rick as their boyfriends; Jackson estimated them to be ages with himself, and an older couple, Clive and Mary, from the other camper van. At first he thought they were all travelling together, but it gradually dawned on him that Clive and Mary had been invited to the fire, even as they had.

The firelight was kind, cosy and comfortable; the conversation flowed easily, borne along by the two younger couples including everyone in their chatter. Aaron was surprised to find himself talking about their holiday, the places they had been to, the piles of old stones Jackson kept dragging him to. He didn't mention Edinburgh.

"So how long have you guys been together?" asked Toby.

"Erm..." Aaron hesitated, he hadn't thought they had said anything to indicate they were together. "Not long," he continued, "just a few months."

"First holiday," added Jackson, smiling at him.

"Ahhh," chorused Lucy and Erin together.

The fire had died down by the time the little group broke up to go to their respective vans. As they got back, Jackson nipped off for a last pee. This was the moment he had been quietly dreading, wondering whether Aaron might take one of the downies and sleep across the front seats, alone. But even in the darkness of the van, he could see him in his usual place on the mattress; a small smile of relief touched his lips as he pulled off his clothes. Sliding in beside him, he found Aaron had kept his tee shirt and boxers on, the thinnest of barriers.

It was quiet in the darkness, peaceful, nothing moved outside or inside the van. Jackson held his breath, wondering if Aaron was sleeping already.

Almost as if he was aware of Jackson listening for the sounds of him sleeping, Aaron spoke.

"I'm not gonna break if you touch me, Jay" he whispered into the darkness, turning slightly as he was gathered into Jackson's welcoming arms.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

It could have been hours before they slept; time became irrelevant. Jackson gathered Aaron into his arms, offering a silent word of thanks that he was there, beside him. He was comfortable, cuddling Aaron in the quiet darkness, relishing the feel of him, the smell of wood smoke in his hair.

Aaron moved a little; being held so close, Jackson's nakedness filled his consciousness and, almost unexpectedly, fuelled his desire. Tentatively he moved his fingers along his arm, tiny movements, but he was aware of Jackson's breath being released, as though he had been holding it. Jackson turned his head towards Aaron, although he could see nothing in the dark, Aaron hoped he was smiling.

Their lips met, gentle kisses, tongues caressing. Jackson shifted slightly, easing his arm from underneath Aaron, wincing at the tingle of returning blood. He moved, easing his body round until he was leaning over, kissing Aaron again and again, receiving his kisses in return.

Aaron tried to ignore the stirrings at his groin; he didn't want to lose the tenderness of their kisses; tonight wasn't the night for fucking.

Jackson broke away; ending the kiss but trailing his fingers gently down Aaron's face. "It's ok, babe" he whispered. "This is fine. I'm happy just being with you."

"Thanks, but my head and my cock are saying two different things just now," replied Aaron.

"Must be because I'm just so hot, "smiled Jackson into the darkness.

"You are though," said Aaron simply. "Shift a minute, will ya." Jackson moved enough for Aaron to squirm out of his tee shirt and boxers before easing himself back into his lover's embrace. He rested one hand on the gentle swell of Jackson's buttocks, caressing slowly, before taking Jackson's hand and placing it gently round his cock, then finding Jackson with his own hand.

Their love making was slow and gentle, tender kisses that lasted forever; long caresses exploring each other's bodies; fingertips on fire with anticipation and desire but moving slowly; there was no need to hurry, in this gentle voyage of discovery they found new ways of pleasing each other. Union and reunion; stars filled the space between them; shuddering explosions seared their bodies, uniting them.

...

"Morning!"

Jackson was sitting at the back of the van, gulping thirstily at a can of juice when he heard the cheerful call. Looking round, he saw Lucy walking purposefully towards him.

"Hiya! Saw the doors open, knew you were up..."she chirped

"Well, actually Aaron's still..." began Jackson, but Lucy was in full flow.

"Are you staying here today? Why don't you move your van over near us? We're staying, and it would be nice. Ooh," she peeking into the van, "you've got it quite cosy in here." Without waiting for an invitation, she climbed in, tweaking her short skirt a little higher as she did so.

"Morning," she said, spying Aaron.

"Er...morning..." replied Aaron, surprised and not a little uncomfortable at her sudden appearance in the van as he tried to ease the downie a little further up his chest.

"I was just asking Jackson if you were staying here today," she said, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, facing Aaron.

Aaron squirmed as far away as he could manage, glaring past Lucy to Jackson, leaning in at the doors, chuckling at his discomfiture.

"You not getting up then?" Lucy said, cheekily giving a little tug at the downie.

"Er, no...I'm not!" exclaimed Aaron, suddenly terrified she might give a harder tug at the cover and expose his nakedness.

Lucy looked him up and down, obviously admiring of the bits she could see; "Ahh, such a waste," she sighed.

"Oh no," laughed Jackson. "Believe me, it's not!"

"Will the pair of you get out!" laughed Aaron nervously, giving Lucy a little push with his foot, "and I'll get up."

"Ok, shy boy! Get up and get the van over before this place gets busy and we'll do breakfast." She reached her hand towards Jackson who leant in and gave her a pull up and out of the van.

"Thought you were gonna be eaten alive there," laughed Jackson as Lucy made her way back to their camper.

"Yeah! Thanks for your help babe!"

"Enjoyed seeing you squirm. You ok with staying?"

"Yeah, they're nice folk. And she was only teasing. I think."

It didn't take Aaron long to pull on some clothes and drive the van over, swapping places with Mary and Clive's camper as they were heading off after breakfast.

Breakfast was a loud, cheerful meal made up of a strange combination of food that needed eaten up, but by the strange alchemy that is outdoor eating, somehow tasted fantastic.

"Right guys!" announced Erin as they were clearing up. "We need to get supplies, Clive says there's a small shop, a couple of miles away, and he'll give us a lift there and back before they leave. So who's coming with me?"

In the end, Jackson chummed Erin and Lucy to the shop leaving Aaron, Rick and Toby minding the vans. Already the loch side area was beginning to fill up with cars, spilling families onto the shore, picking their picnic spots and spreading their belongings about them; the noise levels rising as children began buzzing about the place.

Tucked at one end of the loch side area, the two vans parked at angles to each other gave them a degree of privacy. The lads put out all their deck chairs and spread blankets, ready for a lazy day. Even though it was still fairly early, the sun was warm with a promise of becoming quite hot.

The shoppers returned, laden with bags and grateful for the lift.

"Ah! We so wanted Clive and Mary to stay," sighed Erin as they waved the camper van off. "Even though they are so old, they're dead nice, got a ferry to catch tomorrow though, and want to get nearer today."

"Never mind, we've still got Aaron and Jackson," laughed Lucy, reaching to tweak Jackson's bum as he passed.

"Toby! Control your lady!" exclaimed Jackson, laughing as he shimmied his arse out of her way.

"Can't be done, mate!" replied Toby. "Believe me, I've tried!"

Back and forth the banter went; Aaron found it hard to believe it was only the previous evening they had met. What a difference a day had made; twenty four hours, less really; his world had been balanced on a moment in a lifetime. Yesterday seemed like a dream; a nightmare. It was real though, he knew it had happened; yet now it seemed steeped in unreality. Now he was content to lie and listen to the easy flow of conversation; to the sounds of other folk further off. In the sunshine, at ease with himself again, he drifted off to sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Awww. He looks so cute when he's sleeping." It was the giggling that finally woke him, rather than the words. He kept his eyes closed at first, trying to work out where those two mad lassies were; in particular, where Lucy was. Tentatively he opened his eyes.

"Hello sleepy head!" Lucy exclaimed from behind him, making him jump. "Thought that was going to be you for the day! Jackson, you really shouldn't have been so demanding last night!"

"I know," agreed Jackson, laughing. "Youngsters these days; no stamina!" His smile became even wider as he caught sight of the sudden flush colouring Aaron's face as he turned and scowled at him.

"It's so hot!" said Aaron, trying to ignore the teasing and change the subject. "Never thought Scotland could be as hot as this."

"Go in for a dip, the water's cold, but ok," said Erin. "Rick and I have been in already."

Moving, Aaron noticed both girls were now wearing skimpy bikinis. "Didn't bring a cosi," he said.

"You could always go skinny dipping," teased Lucy.

"Er...no! I don't think so; not with all these folk around!" said Aaron firmly.

"So if it was just us, you would?" teased Erin wickedly.

"Cut the legs off those old black trackkies," interrupted Jackson, feeling sorry for him.

"They're my favourites!" exclaimed Aaron, aggrieved.

"They're half wrecked already!" contradicted Jackson.

"Well...ok then," grumbled Aaron, standing up, then stretching before heading off to the van. "Get a hand?"

"We'll give you a hand, if you want," called Lucy to their retreating backs.

Aaron closed the doors of the van firmly behind them, he wouldn't put it past either of the girls to try and surprise them by flinging them open in a few minutes.

"They only do it cos they can see it winds you up," said Jackson. "Have we got scissors?"

"Nah, we'll just have to use the knife." Aaron dug the trackkies out of his rucksack and slipped them on. "Just make a nick, then I'll take them off to cut the legs off. Just don't make them too short, whatever you do!"

Aaron stood, stooping a little, as Jackson knelt to measure the length of the cut offs. "Don't take too long," he groaned.

"Sorry," said Jackson, "you getting a crick in your neck?"

"Not in my neck, no," he replied, shifting position a little. "In something a little more personal."

"Oh, mmmmm..." murmured Jackson, tugging gently at the top of Aaron's boxers. "I see what you mean. I think you need a bit of help there."

"Oh yes please," gasped Aaron as he felt Jackson's lips brush against his cock. "Are the doors locked?"

"Yeah, they're fine. You stayin' standin'?"

"U'Huhhhhh..." breathed Aaron, moving backwards a little until he was leaning against the side of the van, bracing his hands against the roof above his head. "Oh! Jay! That feels so good! You really..."

"Shut up babe! Bite your lip or something! Someone might hear!"

Aaron turned his head as far into his raised arm as he could. Jackson could hear his breathing becoming ragged as he became more and more turned on. Staying on his knees, Jackson began to pay attention to Aaron's aroused cock.

With gentle hands he smoothed his soft curly pubes out of the way before returning his mouth his cock, tender kisses up and down its full length; god! he was beautiful; was it any wonder he felt such desire; wanting him so much; enjoying him so much.

He could taste the tangy saltiness of him as he licked and kissed his glistening slit, savouring the pre cum. He moved one hand round, caressing his buttocks, pulling him in closer, sliding a finger teasingly up and down his crack, getting tantalisingly close to his sweet, tight hole, then pulling back. He wasn't getting it all just now!

But now he couldn't hold back from taking him all in his mouth; as he did so he could already feel convulsions beginning within Aaron as he began moving his hips into Jackson's face; slowly at first, then increasing his speed as Jackson grabbed his buttocks to steady himself. Shudderingly, explosively, Aaron came, groaning, collapsing as he spent his load in Jackson's mouth, down his chest. Tumbling together, Jackson quickly released him from his mouth. Hugging each other tightly, they lay on the mattress, getting their breath back.

"Thank you!" gasped Aaron

"Oh it's my absolute pleasure, babe," smiled Jackson, kissing him quickly, letting him have a sudden taste of himself in his mouth. "C'mon, I must get this tee shirt off and we need to get your trackkies and my jeans done." Jackson pulled the stained tee shirt over his head, scrubbing his face with a dry bit.

It didn't take too long to hack the legs off the two pairs of trousers; they weren't going for sartorial elegance, after all.

Leaving the van a few minutes later; they found their four companions sunbathing.

"Got them done then? Took you long enough," called Lucy. "Was gonna send out a search party!"

"Oh yeah," smirked Aaron. "Got a smile on my face too!" He laughed out loud as he saw the sudden blush of surprise cross her face as she caught his meaning, as he turned the teasing back on her. Suddenly he grabbed Jackson's hand and pulled him, running towards the cold, sparkling water.

Helter skelter! Hairum scarum! They ran into the water, tumbling knee deep, waist deep, deeper still. Aaron flung himself backwards, splashing hugely. Entering into his high spirits, Jackson crashed down, almost on top of Aaron, trusting their combined splashing to hide the snatched kiss and stolen caress as they plunged under the water.

Freezingly, tinglingly cold; they were scrambling to their feet even as the icy water registered against their skin, warm and sweating from their recent love making; the droplets of water beginning to evaporate in the heat from the sun on their chests and backs even as they clasped hands and, laughing, pulled each other to their feet.

Standing a moment, rubbing the water from his eyes, Aaron grinned at Jackson, admiring the sparkling drops of water glinting in the sunlight, highlighting the dips and curves of his slender body. Then challenge and invitation filing his eyes, he turned and began to swim, knowing Jackson would follow him.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

They didn't swim far, just round a small outcrop of rock and scrubby bushes into the next bay, but it was beyond the loch side car park and no one else was there. Wading out of the water, they flung themselves onto the coarse sandy bank to lie in the sunshine for a while.

The sun was hot, drying their skin in minutes; even with his eyes closed, Aaron felt the brightness behind his eyelids. He moved his hand a little, his fingers searching for Jackson's hand; finding it, he entwined his fingers with his lovers and gently squeezed, receiving an answering squeeze in return.

"Better not lay too long," murmured Jackson, "don't want to burn."

"Mmmm..." agreed Aaron, not moving, not wanting to break the spell just yet.

"No, come on, we need to move," said Jackson reluctantly, but showing no sign that he was taking his own advice.

"Jay...?" began Aaron.

"Yea-ah..." now Jackson opened his eyes and looked across at Aaron, squinting in the bright sunshine. He knew that tone of voice, knew that it usually meant that Aaron had something on his mind, something that he was struggling with; he wondered what it was.

"Why do some folk have such a problem with other folk being gay?"

"Eh...?" well that wasn't at all what he expected, Jackson thought. What on earth had put that into Aaron's head?

"I mean, I know I was freaky about them, but I kinda tell myself it was because I always knew and...well...y'know," he hesitated, searching for the words.

"Freaky?" challenged Jackson quietly.

"Ok, I hated them," admitted Aaron. "But I always knew...I was always scared someone would find me out. But then some folk just hate them. Like my dad. Like Wayne; he would have beaten seven kinds of crap out of me if you hadn't stopped him." He paused, searching for a way to explain the ideas he was trying to put into words.

"Like at home, the village I mean, not Paddy's; I spent weeks winding myself up about being near you, folk seeing us, but being away, it's been different, I haven't cared who's seen us. But that's the wrong way round, isn't it." He paused again, looking over at Jackson, searching his face to see if he was making sense.

"At home, everyone knows us, maybe doesn't like us...it...being gay, I mean. Like Cain going on and on with his name calling; but they're not gonna want to kick the shit out of us because of it. But there are people out there who would. Just because I want to go to bed with you."

Aaron lapsed into silence, a slight frown on his face. He knew he wasn't explaining himself very well, but somehow, from somewhere the realisation had crept up on him that he or Jackson could be hated and hurt for doing something that felt so right.

"That's just the way it is; it's not right, it's not fair, but it happens," said Jackson quietly. "Although thankfully not that often; there are a lot more decent, tolerant folk than Waynes in the world. Anyway, where did all this come from?"

"Don't know really, just been thinking about it."

Jackson looked at him; just as he thought he getting to know him, he sprung something else on him, he let another - surprising - part of himself, be revealed.

"Is this anything to do with the other day...Edinburgh?" he asked quietly.

"Not really," replied Aaron. "Yeah…well, maybe… just a little, not much."

"You can't live your life being scared, Aaron. If everyone did that, being gay would still be illegal; we'd still have Section 28, there'd be no civil partnerships."

"I know that really, but I'm still scared, but I also have to fight it, don't I? Being scared and being hated. Oh god! I don't really know what I am trying to say!" he flung himself round onto his stomach and found Jackson watching him, encouragement in his dark eyes. "I mean; if people don't say they are gay, every gay-bashing Wayne wins."

"Aaron Livesy, I think you've just become an out and proud gay man!" Jackson smiled at him.

"No, I haven't, "replied Aaron, a quiet, sad smile touching his lips. "I would like nothing more than to be left alone to do what I want, with who I want; nobody's business but my own. But I'm gay, you're gay, and some people hate us, say we're not normal, just because of that. It's so mad."

"You're right, it is mad, but it isn't going to change anything, dwelling on it and being miserable. Especially when the sun is shining and we're on holiday!" Jackson leant forward, quickly kissing him, then standing and offering his hand to pull Aaron up.

Aaron smiled a little self consciously, he hadn't really meant to share any of these thoughts with Jackson; most of the time he wasn't sure what he was thinking, or at least couldn't make much sense of his thoughts. But Jackson was right, leave it just now.

To bodies warmed by the sun, the water felt colder than ever as they slid back into it. Ducking under first, Jackson splashed up in front of Aaron, clasped his shoulders and flung himself on him, pushing him backwards. Tumbling; legs tangled, arms reaching, hands touching, fingers holding tight; they laughed together as the sparkling water enveloped them, hiding their teasing caresses.

Swimming ashore at the loch side bay, there seemed to be more people than ever; the glorious weather bringing families, couples, the old, the young to enjoy the sun and the water. Dripping, they made their way out of the loch and up the sloping shore to the two vans and their new friends

"Good swim, lads?" called Rick; he was lying, sunbathing, on a towel with Erin.

"Oh yes!" grinned Jackson, elaborating no further.

Aaron smiled but said nothing; let them think what they would.

Grabbing their towels from the van, they spread them on top of a blanket already on the ground. Neither bothered drying, the sun would soon dry the moisture on their bodies.

"Don't suppose you girlies have any sun tan lotion? "asked Jackson, "don't want Aaron to have any sunburn issues later on."

"Yeah, sure," said Lucy, reaching into a large holdall beside her. "Baggsie gets to rub it in though."

"Er…no way," said Aaron lazily, not letting himself be riled by the teasing. "But Toby and Rick can if they want!" He stretched provocatively, resting his arms above his head.

"Behave!" laughed Jackson, enjoying the looks of bemused surprise on the two lads faces; and enjoying, even more, Aaron teasing them.

Aaron just smiled.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The clouds came in with the evening and by the time it was dark, the rain was spattering down. Rick and Toby had struggled with lighting the bonfire again, but with no success. They had all gathered in the camper van for a while, but it wasn't long before Jackson caught Aaron's eye, indicating he was ready to leave.

Outside the van, Jackson took a deep breath; the dampness of the rain freshening the evening air after the heat of the day.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to leave so early and drag you away, but I am just about coming to the end of my Lucy tolerance level," he said.

"Nah, your fine, she's ok in small doses," agreed Aaron, "but just too much confined in the van; goodness knows how Toby puts up with her."

"Fancy a walk?" asked Jackson.

"In this rain? You're mad!" Aaron could just make out his eyes, dark pools in the gloom of the evening. "Ok, let me get a jacket though!"

They grabbed jackets from the van and began following the shore. In the darkness, they had to pick their way carefully, watching for stones and uneven ground; in the darkness it was a very different place from earlier in the day when it had been full of people, full of noise. Quiet now, there was only the gentle lapping of the water on the shore disturbing the peace. After a minute or two, even the light from the camper van was hidden from their view; they could have been alone in the world.

"You ok?" Aaron questioned Jackson.

"Yeah, fine, why?"

"Just checking," he paused and stopping walking, pulled Jackson close towards him, resting his arms on his shoulders, looking deep into his eyes. "Because I dump so much of the shite that goes around in my head on you, and you take it; you listen to me, tell me if I'm talking rubbish or not; tell me it's ok to feel scared. But how often have I asked you if you are ok, wondered if there is anything bothering you."

"I'm fine, honestly," replied Jackson, sliding his arms round Aaron's hips. "Don't worry. I just wanted a bit of peace and quiet, and to have you to myself again!"

"So long as you're sure; so long as you know I'm here for you, like you are for me."

Aaron sounded so serious that Jackson couldn't help but smile at him in the darkness. He knew Aaron could be cagey about showing his feelings, reluctant to let anyone get too close, to let too many people see the real Aaron beneath the hard outer carapace. Looking at him, Jackson felt a flood of gratitude that after all they had been through, Aaron had let him in; had given him a chance.

"Thanks," was all Jackson said, but he punctuated it with a long, slow kiss.

…..

The rain grew harder, from a steady drizzle to sturdy, substantial drops that began to soak them and it was with an unspoken agreement that they made their way back to the van.

Flinging their wet jackets over the front seats, they climbed into the back of the van and flopped onto the mattress. Jackson switched the small battery lamp on, then began rummaging in his rucksack.

"D'you want a can?" asked Aaron

"Please," replied Jackson. "Did you see what I did with those cards that I got the other day?"

"They're in the front, but really? Cards?"

"Oh yes!" Jackson leaned over the seat, reaching into the front of the van, his legs stretched out behind him.

"Mmmmm….nice view," chuckled Aaron appreciatively.

"I aim to please," smiled Jackson, struggling back. He pulled the cards out of their pack and began shuffling. "So have you ever played strip snap then?"

The rules were simple, he explained. "You get the snap: you keep your clothes on."

"But why?" protested Aaron, "You could just say 'let's go to bed' and I'd be bare naked and on top of you in a minute."

"Ah, but it's all in the anticipation, babe," he laughed, quickly dealing the cards.

"SNAP!"

Aaron lost his first trainer.

"SNAP!"

His second trainer; quickly followed by his socks. "You could at least have let me put on more clothes before we started," he grumbled teasingly, slamming another card down. SNAP!"

Jackson removed his first trainer. "Nah, don't want the game to last too long; I've got plans. SNAP!"

Aaron lost his hoodie.

"Like I said you could have just asked me….Oh shite!" Aaron lost his trackkies. "So tell me about these plans then. SNAP!"

Jackson lost his second trainer. "Need an early night, babe; I'm really tired," he teased. "SNAP!"

"Git!" laughed Aaron, pulling off his tee shirt. "How the hell am I almost naked already and you've still got all your clothes on?"

"Because I cheated," grinned Jackson. "I just yelled snap loudly enough and you believed me."

"Well yell it again so I can get rid of these," said Aaron, indicating his boxers.

"SNAP!"

Aaron pulled off his boxers and lobbed them to some far corner of the van. "So you getting all kinky now, me bare naked and you still with your kit on? Bit of power and domination going on, is there?" he flirted.

"Ah-h, like that would you?" Jackson teased back. "Right then, flat on your back, boy!" He pushed Aaron backwards onto the mattress, immediately dropping on top of him, ready to begin kissing him.

Suddenly Aaron caught his legs up and around Jackson's waist, catching him off guard; he launched himself sideways and had quickly reversed their positions.

"Not so smart now, eh," he laughed, looking down at his lover. "So are you getting bare naked too now, or what?"


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Even skipping breakfast, they didn't get away from the loch as early as they had hoped the following morning; waking late, they struggled to escape from the clutches of Lucy and Erin. It was with a great sense of relief and cheery waves that they turned north again. Jackson was driving; Aaron gazed out of the window, his lips moving and his fingers tapping in time to the music on the CD.

"So tell me," began Jackson a few minutes later, "if this is Paddy's CD, how come you know all the words?"

"I don't!" protested Aaron, pulling a face."

"Excuse me!" exclaimed Jackson. "You were singing along with all the words just now!"

"Was not!" said Aaron, smiling despite his denials.

"You were so!" laughed Jackson. "But carry on; I don't mind being serenaded while I'm driving."

"Dream on!" Aaron exclaimed, but he couldn't help the smile from spreading over his face this time.

The rain of yesterday had stopped, but it was grey and swirls of mist hung around the tops of the hills, shrouding their summits and corries in mystery. They didn't drive for too many miles before pulling off the road for a very late breakfast or a rather early lunch.

"Where are we heading, then?" asked Aaron. They had made a pile of sandwiches which were now balanced on the seat between them, along with a couple of packets of crisps, spread open to share and he ate hungrily as he looked at the map in front of him. "We're in the middle of nowhere now, but there's a junction in a bit, although both roads head to the west coast."

Jackson leaned across, putting his arm around Aaron's shoulder to support himself as he looked at the map with him.

"Take the most northerly one?" he questioned.

"Fine by me," agreed Aaron. "Head there then?" he pointed to a name on the map, "looks like it might be a town or something. Shouldn't take us more than a couple of hours to get there"

"You wanting to just park up tonight or look for a site?" asked Jackson, still squinting at the map.

"Just find somewhere to park up, eh?" replied Aaron. "I feel clean enough after swimming yesterday. Get somewhere with a shower tomorrow."

Hitting the road again, they didn't hurry, giving themselves time to look about, wondering at the countryside so different from their own area. Miles and miles of emptiness, occasionally small townships gathered at the roadside, punctuating the wilderness. At first they were driving through low mountains, the twisting road following the passes between them; then gradually the road climbed and they left the mountains, emerging into desolate moorland, disappearing into the grey mist that had fallen. In the distance they could see another mountainous bulwark ranging up before them, although it took some miles before the road led them there. Twisting through the dark, overpowering glen; the cloud was swirling low, a lowering lid on the world, sealing them in together. Emerging a few miles later by a sea loch, the mist lifted a little; shards of sunlight pierced the clouds.

Driving along the loch side, they saw a couple of places that they thought they might come back to for the night, but decided to find the town – if there was one – first. The road seemed endless but at last they began passing hotels and B & Bs; then finally a car park.

They wandered the full length of the main street, not looking for anything in particular, just enjoying the slightly aimless, timeless meandering through unfamiliar streets, finding garish, alien shops full of tartan covered gifts.

"Treat you to an Indian for your tea," said Jackson as they passed a restaurant; pungent, spicy aromas enticing them as they came to the door.

"Go halves and it's a deal," replied Aaron, pushing the door open without waiting for his agreement.

The large restaurant was busy, even though it was still fairly early, but they were shown to a window table with a view overlooking the water.

"The best bit of an Indian is the popadoms," declared Aaron a few minutes later, as he broke one into small pieces and dunked a golden, crispy triangle into the mango chutney before popping it delicately into his mouth.

"Will you stop doing that!" whispered Jackson urgently.

"What?" asked Aaron in mock innocence.

"You know fine! Waving your hands around in front of me while you're eating!"

"What! Like this?" Aaron held Jackson's eyes with his own and very slowly, very deliberately broke another small piece of popadom, dunked, and slid it between his parted lips.

"You are just _so_ wicked," Jackson's eyes sparked with his quiet words.

"Yeah, but you love it!" replied Aaron, still keeping Jackson's eyes captive with his own as he licked an imaginary speck of chutney from his finger; both he and Jackson imagining as he did so, where they would rather that finger and tongue were playing.

"Aaron! Enough! Or I'll be sitting here with the biggest hard-on ever!"

Aaron flicked his eyes downwards to approximately the place where Jackson's cock would be if the table weren't in the way.

"Save it for me till later, then," he teased, sliding his fingers across the table and for a second touching Jackson's fingertips with his own.

...

It was raining when they finally emerged, the street much emptier than it had been earlier. They had found a pub after their meal, loud with rather cheesy Scottish music played for the visitors, and had enjoyed a couple of pints, although knowing they still had to move the van, Aaron's pints were of coke.

"Fucking pair o' poofters!"

The words rung out behind them in the quiet echo of the rain spattered night.

"Fucking queers!"

"Just ignore them," Jackson whispered, feeling Aaron tense beside him.

"Give him a kiss then!" "Arse fucking bandits!"

Something rattled to the ground close by them, a stone thrown from close range. The insults, the jeering grew louder; they tried walking faster, but it kept pace with them, began to catch up with them, began to surround them.

Every muscle, every sinew of Aaron's body ached to stop, to turn and fight, but Jackson was beside him and Jackson made him a different person, a better person. He had flared up in the past, unable to control the red mist of his temper and had seen the hurt and disappointment in him that had filled Jackson's eyes; he never wanted to see that again.

"Poofs!" "Fucking queers!" "Arse bandits!" Round and round the words flew; now Aaron couldn't tell if they were still reverberating in his head or from the mouths of the bodies he could feel gathering behind them. Beside him, Jackson was trying to walk faster, to get away. Suddenly they were surrounded.

"Give us a kiss, gay boy!"

Unsure what he was going to do, to say, to try and defuse the situation, Aaron stopped, putting out his hand to catch Jackson, to stop him too. He could feel his whole body beginning to shake, with anger, tightly controlled, with fear too perhaps.

"So we're gay! So what?" Rigid control of himself lent ice to his voice.

"We don't like you; we don't like you fucking gays!" one of the faceless, jeering bodies detached itself, came closer, filled Aaron's personal space. He could smell the alcohol, the bad breath.

"So? I don't much like you, straight boy!" Aaron stared into the blazing eyes of his tormentor, clenching his fists tightly.

"You're a fucking pervert!"

"Why?" challenged Aaron, his voice still quiet and icy cold. "Because I fancy him," he nodded towards Jackson. "Why does that bother you? How am I hurting you by wanting to be with him?"

"Oh you ain't fucking hurting me, gay boy! But let's see what your pretty boyfriend here's got that makes him so special!"

Suddenly hands were grabbing at Aaron, holding him as his tormentor spun round, lifted his arm against Jackson's neck and pushed him backwards against a wall, his other hand reaching for his groin, his cock, quickly trying to get inside his tight jeans but hammering his knee between his legs as he failed on his first attempt.

Seeing his lover under attack, Aaron could no longer keep his temper in check; he didn't even try, but began lashing out, hitting indiscriminately, feeling his fists make contact with skin and bones. But there was too many of them, the odds were unequal from the start. After the initial surprise at his retaliation, the blows started raining down upon Aaron. At first he could still see Jackson, held fast, doubled in pain, but fists and feet, hitting and kicking at every inch of his body brought him to the floor. Blood filled his mouth; rain pouring, puddling on the ground soaked him, pain swamped his consciousness, wiping every other thought from him, movement, except as a response to a blow or kick, left him, his body jerking limply with each assault.

Swirling, welcoming blackness, wave upon wave, came closer, he was sinking, all the fight long kicked out of him.

In the distance, sirens finally disturbed the night, scattering the nightmare.

"Aaron!" gasped Jackson, tears mixing with the rain as they streamed down his face.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Through the lifting blackness he could feel hands on his body, touching him, feeling him, moving him. He tried to make a sound; was he screaming or groaning or deathly quiet, making no noise at all? He couldn't tell; the movement sent him spiralling back into blackness.

Surfacing again, voices penetrating his consciousness, still the hands were exploring his body as he struggled against them; he just wanted to hide; curl away and go back to the darkness.

"Aaron!" It was just a whisper, but it was the voice he wanted to hear. He tried to focus on it, pull himself towards it. "Aaron, don't fight now, they're paramedics; you need to let them help you."

Was that right? Could it be over? He tried to open his eyes; it was dark but there were patches of bright light, beams illuminating a blur, passing green movement, a body enveloped in green. His head was spinning, he felt the rising, unstoppable nausea, rapidly followed by the bitter, acrid taste as he vomited again and again. Sinking back, voices swirled around him.

"Secure that drip; start with two litres of saline."

"Aaron! I'm just here!"

"Spinal board and neck brace."

"Come on, Mr Walsh; Jackson! You need to help us by waiting in the ambulance; we have to do a couple of things to get Aaron ready to move."

"Lift! Gently...gently!"

He knew nothing of being scooped from the cold, soaking ground, of being secured on the stretcher in the ambulance, of lying opposite Jackson; Jackson who couldn't take his eyes from his bloodied face, of the short journey to the hospital or of the flurry of people, nurses, doctors, scurrying around them both, dividing them.

For Jackson, the greatest agony was not knowing what was happening to Aaron; he knew that his own attack, his own injuries, were slight compared to Aarons. But still he was put into a cubical, helped into a hospital gown, his bruises examined, his abrasions cleaned, his fears professionally reassured. None of it helped; none of it would until he could see Aaron, hold him.

The bright lights penetrated Aaron's mind, rousing him, dragging him back to the present. Oh god! everything hurt!

"Aaron! Aaron! Can you hear me? Wake up for me?" The unfamiliar, insistent voice infiltrated the dazed, blank places of himself where he had retreated. Something, someone, was rubbing hard on his chest. "Aaron! Can you open your eyes for me?" Reluctantly Aaron tried to obey the voice, tried to force his eyes open against every inclination coursing through his body.

"Hello Aaron," the voice was warm and tinged with relief. "Glad to see you back with us. I'm Dr MacKenzie, Aaron. We need to take a look at you, but we are going to have to get you out of these wet clothes. It will be quicker and less painful for you if we cut them off; is that ok?"

Barely moving, Aaron nodded his consent. Much more important, all that filled his mind was Jackson; dampening his lips with his tongue; that was the one word he whispered, "Jackson?"

"He's fine; he'll be absolutely fine. You can see him soon, once we've sorted you out, ok? But first we need to get you cleaned up and checked over. And some x-rays."

Aaron didn't care anymore; Jackson was fine, he would see him soon. He couldn't keep his eyes open any longer; drifting into a glowing sunset, he let his recovery begin around him.

...

There was hardly any light the next time he opened his eyes; it could have been minutes or hours later, he had no idea. And for a few, confusing moments, he had little idea where he was; he tried to move and suddenly his whole body screamed in protest, bringing memory returning with the wracking pain throughout his body.

He must have made a noise; a figure appeared beside him, cool hands touching his shoulder, linking him to reality.

"Jackson?"

"He's right here, Aaron. Not too long now, Jackson, he's had a lot of painkillers. Five minutes, then back to bed." She moved out of the way, her place immediately filled by the one person he wanted more than ever to see, the one person who he thought he might never see again. In the dim light their eyes met, almost shyly their fingers crept towards each other over the bed covers, scared to touch in case the other broke.

Aaron smiled. "Hold me Jay," he whispered.

Tentatively Jackson began to slide his arm under Aaron's shoulder, stopping a second later as a groan broke from Aaron's lips

"No! Don't stop! I need you to hold me just now, really tightly. I don't care about anything else." He tried to move a little, to slide his body to one side, allowing Jackson more room on the bed.

"I'm fine, I've got plenty of room," whispered Jackson quickly, even in the darkness of the ward he could see the increasing pain etched across Aaron's face as he tried such a tiny little movement.

"Just hold me! Please!" Aaron's quiet voice had an edge of pleading, of desperation to it; he had never needed reassurance of Jackson's presence more than he did now.

Jackson eased himself as close on the bed to Aaron as he could, trying to perfect a precarious balance; holding him tight enough to satisfy his need for reassurance and security yet gently enough to cause him no further pain. He could feel him relaxing in his arms, knowing at last the ultimate comfort of his embrace.

Jackson hated the thought of breaking the peace of the moment, but there was something he needed to ask. The doctors had asked him first, suggesting it might be a good idea, but for the moment, he had stalled them.

"Aaron," he whispered in the semi darkness. "Do you want me to phone Chas, or Paddy?" At first he thought Aaron hadn't heard him, for a moment he didn't move, gave no indication he was even still awake.

"No," the word was so quiet, he hardly heard him. Then stronger; "No! I'm fine; just a bit bruised and battered. I don't want them to know. Promise me, Jackson! Promise me you won't call them." His voice was beginning to rise now, infused with panic.

"Sssh, ok, ssssh Aaron! I won't call them if you don't want me to."

"Thank you,"

Lapsing into silence, he could have slept there, beside him, but all too soon the nurse returned and demanded that he return to his own bed.

"Can I go somewhere to use my phone first, nurse? I know it's late, but I need to do it now."

Flicking through the names in his phonebook, he found the one he wanted and pressed the dial button. It was so late; perhaps there would be no answer...but no! there was the voice, greeting him.

"Mum, it's me. Something's happened and I don't know what to do.


	22. Chapter 22

_Just want to say a huge thanks for all who review, here and on DS, you're all great. G. x._

Chapter 22

Twenty minutes later, Jackson clicked his phone closed but he didn't immediately leave the quiet room the nurse had directed him to when he had asked to use his phone. He needed a few minutes to collect himself; to dry the tears he had hardly noticed falling as he spoke, recalling the events of the night. Although the ward was only dimly lit and Aaron should be sleeping, he couldn't risk him seeing his blotched and puffy face as he passed his bed.

It had helped, speaking to Hazel; of course at first she had wanted to wake Paddy straight away, but she had listened to Jackson, heard how much that was not what Aaron wanted, heard how much Jackson wanted to do the right thing by his lover, but was not sure what that right thing was right now. Making his tears fall, fresh again, she had questioned him intently; not about the attack, that had been hard enough for him to describe to her at all, but about Aaron himself. Where was he? ITU? No, the ordinary ward. Were there many tubes? No just a drip. Any bones broken? Not as far as Jackson knew. Was he awake? Well...they had spoken.

Eventually Hazel had led him to the discovery of compromise; it was the small hours of the morning now and Aaron appeared to be in no immediate danger, so to wait a few more hours, to wait until morning, before making a decision, would be safe. Yet if a single thing changed, she threatened, Paddy would have to be told. She suspected the doctors would be around first thing in the morning; Jackson was to phone her when they had been, then, if he wanted, she would tactfully – although tact had never been her middle name – suggest to Paddy that he phone Aaron.

Gratefully Jackson had agreed, relieved that speaking to his mother had helped his sort out his confused emotions. Glad that he needn't worry about Paddy or Chas – funny that his mum hadn't even suggested telling Chas - for a few hours, at least. Eventually he began making his way back to the ward...oh god!...there was a figure at Aaron's bed! What was wrong?

"He's fine Jackson," the nurse was quick to reassure him as he came up beside her. "This is all just routine; I need to check him every 30 minutes. He is still under the effects of the painkillers so will hardly notice me disturbing him. Now will you get back to bed," she smiled at him in the dim light, "or do I need to get you the biggest jag in the world to get you to rest!"

Sheepishly Jackson climbed back into his own bed, but lay facing Aaron, trying determinedly to keep his eyes open, to make sure he stayed safe, to be there for him. Despite himself, eventually he slept.

...

The morning bustle of the ward woke him with a start of confusion as he tried piece together the sparks and shards of his disjointed memories.

Aaron!

He looked over to the next bed.

"Morning sleepy head. Though how you can sleep with all this noise going on I don't know."

His voice was quiet, speaking was an obvious effort, but there was a weak and watery smile struggling between the bruises and cuts on his face.

Jackson was out of his bed in a second, pulling the hospital gown he had been given the night before close around him; he was at Aaron's bedside in an instant. Not caring, not even noticing any of the other occupants in the ward, he gently took his hand in his own, touching the bruises and grazes tenderly, all the while looking deep into his eyes, drinking in his waking presence before him.

"How are you?" Aaron asked the question first.

"Fine," he allowed a hint of a smile to touch his lips. "You?"

"Fine, a bit achy, that's all."

At that moment they needed no more words, but sat in silent relief at being together, at it being a new day.

All too quickly, a nurse hustled Jackson away. "The doctors will be round to see him shortly and I need a urine specimen from you, please," she said, handing him a small cardboard tray with his name on it.

Jackson made his way to the toilet and finding the privacy of a cubical, stood...and stood...and stood. And wondered how come a few minutes earlier he could have done with a pee but now, knowing that someone wanted a 'specimen' to do goodness know what with, the notion had completely left him. The sound of another patient coming in didn't help either.

"Jackson."

Shit! Jackson flung open the cubical door. He couldn't believe Aaron was standing there, clinging onto his drip stand for support. "What the hell are you doing out of bed!" he demanded urgently.

"I need a pee," he replied, waving his arm with the saline drip feeding into it, as if that explained and excused everything.

"And how the hell did you get a pair of jarmy trousers!" continued Jackson, noticing that Aaron had a very ancient and unstylish pair of pyjamas under his gown."

"I'm not some weirdo exhibitionist prepared to show off my butt to all and sundry up and down the ward!"

Jackson smiled at him, delighted to hear an echo of his bantering, teasing tone, even though it was coming from such a battered and bruised body.

"Oh god Jay! Will you just kiss me!"

Jackson needed no second invitation, gently sliding his arms round Aaron's shoulders, feeling Aaron relax against him; more than that perhaps, using his body for support, clasping his waist. Hesitantly, tenderly their lips met; tensing, testing against unexpected pain, yet hungrily too; kisses full of the fear for what might have been...but wasn't.

Seconds...minutes later they broke apart, but their eyes remained locked on each other, unable to tear their gaze away.

"I'll need to get some clothes, Jackson," began Aaron. "They binned all mine last night."

"What for?" asked Jackson, puzzled.

"Well I'm not walking out dressed like this, am I?"

"What d'you mean? You're not likely to be going anywhere today!"

"Well I'm not staying here!" Aaron glared at him.

"You'll do what the doctors tell you to!" retorted Jackson, anger flaring.

"I'm fine! You're fine! They'll let us go no problem! I don't want to lose any more of our holiday!"

"For god sake, Aaron! You were beaten unconscious last night! You can't just ignore that!"

"Yes! I can! I'm still in one piece, I can take painkillers and I'll be fine!"

They were still glaring at each other when a nurse stuck her head round the door, summoning Aaron back to bed in imminent expectation of the doctor's morning rounds.

Turning a tap on full, Jackson tried to produce the required specimen.

...

He was still scowling as he returned to bed after leaving the begrudged sample in the sluice as instructed. But there was no chance to chance to speak to Aaron again; the curtains were firmly closed around his bed and he could hear the rumble of voices behind them.

The rattle of Aaron's curtains being pulled attracted his attention but he could do no more than glimpse his profile before to his surprise, his own curtains were drawn closed, shrouding him in a sea of white coats.

The ward sister smiled at him encouragingly. "He's not happy," she said, nodding her head in the rough direction of Aaron's bed. "Wants to sign himself out; try and persuade him not to do that, won't you." She was an older woman, comfortably round, and had obviously been fully briefed by the night staff on her two new patients.

"How is he?" Jackson couldn't help but ask.

"Very well, considering the beating he took," replied the one of the doctors. "But we can't let him go today, there are a few tests we need to do. In fact, before you even ask, you are not going anywhere either. Right, let's have a look at you."

In the cold light of day, it was horrible having to surrender his body to their examination, to their probing fingers; to confront the bruises discolouring his skin, hiding violent damage. It brought back memories that he tried to hide from again, but thwarting him, they danced around in his mind. He could taste his blood in his mouth as he bit his lip, keeping control.

The sister touched his shoulder as they left; he had done well, the gesture said.

Not looking at Aaron, he grabbed his phone and made his way to the room he had used during the night. He text his mother. Two words. "Tell Paddy."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

He slid his phone under the pillow on his bed, hoping Aaron hadn't seen it in his hand. But he was lying on his bed, facing away from him; even from that distance, Jackson could see the rigidity in his body, but whether he was in pain from his beating or from what was going on in his head, Jackson wouldn't have liked to say.

He took a deep, steadying breath. Of course, he might still be in a major sulk. His bed was only a few feet away; in the seconds it took him to walk over, to lean against the edge of the bed, to touch his shoulder, he might have been walking a thousand feet.

Gently, his fingertips touched Aaron shoulder, easing his unprotesting body round. Jackson wasn't surprised to see his blue eyes flooding with unshed tears. Gently he let his fingers skim over the bruises and scabbing cuts on his face.

"I can't let them win, Jay, I just can't. The Waynes."

"They haven't won, babes, not by a long shot." His fingers trailed down his cheek; Aaron closed his eyes; a tiny movement of his chin pushed his face harder against Jackson's caressing, comforting fingers. Perching on the edge of Aaron's bed, Jackson continued, "Nothing they have done has changed anything; you're still gay, so am I. And we're still together. The bruises will fade, the cuts will heal, the memories….well, we'll just have to deal with them. Together. But just now you need to phone Paddy,"

"I can't," said Aaron sadly.

"Why not?" asked Jackson, genuinely confused.

"Because he'll want me to go home; he'll end our holiday and I just want to be in our own bed in our own van. Well," he paused, "my mattress in your van, but you know what I mean." He moved slightly, curling his body in on itself, hiding; Jackson could see the flash of pain crossing his face.

"He cares for you, Aaron. He just wants what's best for you.

"Oh! And you think what is best for me is going home do you," snapped Aaron, his temper flaring, the tears welling up in his eyes, coming closer to spilling in his distress.

On the locker Aaron's phone began to ring, the tune echoing against the empty wooden furniture. Jackson reached over and passed it to him, deliberately covering the screen, not wanting to see the name he knew would be illuminated. Not wanting his guilt to betray him.

"It's Paddy," said Aaron quietly, glancing at it. "How the hell did he do that? Never had him down as psychic."

"Speak to him," whispered Jackson, scared Aaron would just let it ring out to voicemail.

Even as he clicked the accept button, the tears began to fall silently down Aaron's face.

"Paddy" he whispered. "Paddy…..I'm so sorry…."

….

In the end, it had been impossible for Aaron to speak coherently to Paddy through his tears and distress, he passed the phone to Jackson and retreating, distancing himself, tightly curled his battered body as close as he comfortably could, he lay on the bed, his back to Jackson and the difficult conversation he had abandoned.

Paddy hadn't been much better than Aaron and had quickly passed the phone to Hazel. Jackson was so glad to hear his mother's voice again; he knew her blunt common sense was what they all needed now. But when the conversation ended some minutes later he couldn't be exactly sure what had – or had not – been decided; or even remember clearly all that had been said. He looked at Aaron; he hadn't moved, hadn't acknowledged the end of the conversation so close to him; he had fallen asleep. Gazing down on his sleeping face, Jackson smiled; despite the scabs and purpling bruises he looked relaxed and at peace; he looked so very young, Jackson reflected. He moved quietly away, sleep could only help now.

….

Returning from a shower as hot as his body could stand, he found his clothes had been washed and were neatly piled on his bed. Drawing the curtains, he pulled on his tee shirt, pants and jeans; uncomfortably discovering he needed to leave his jeans unzipped, they were too tight against his bruises. It was rather strange, wearing the same clothes he had worn last night, when_ it_ happened; knowing that dirt – and their blood – had been washed out of them; but at least he wasn't a 'weirdo exhibitionist' anymore. The ghost of a smile crossed his lips, remembering Aaron's phrase.

The nurse found him idly flicking through a newspaper on his bed.

"Jackson, the police are here to see you, I've shown them into the dayroom, there's no one using it just now."

Reluctantly Jackson followed her down the corridor; he had known they would come, he had known there would be no escape from reliving it all yet again; the oppressive weight of dread had been suffocating him; it was all in the anticipation. Pausing outside the door for a second before entering, he took a deep breath, gathering strength, and entered.

There were two of them, oh god! a WPC! Did that make it better or worse? In the split second as he walked into the room, Jackson couldn't decide. They introduced themselves, but already Jackson felt the nerves knotting in his stomach, as if he were already on trial,

"We weren't doing anything," he protested straight away, jumping in even before they had asked anything. "Not touching, holding hands, nothing!"

"It's ok, Mr Walsh. Can I call you Jackson?" The PC spoke quietly, soothingly. "We have two people in custardy, we have CCTV, we have witnesses; we know it was a totally unprovoked attack, we know they had somehow realised the nature of your relationship with Mr Livesy. I know it is difficult, but can you take us through the whole evening."

It didn't get any easier, no matter how many times he recalled each insult hurled at them, each blow on his body, the hands roughly groping at him, trying to touch him, trying to fight them off, seeing Aaron being pummelled relentlessly to the ground. Seeing the blood mingling with the rain, puddling on the ground around his unconscious lover. But he spoke; he told them every gut wrenching detail that he could remember.

Exhaustion was overtaking him; he felt drained as they had let him go back to the ward, back to his bed, back to Aaron. He had told them everything, all he could recall, but he knew it might not be enough. And he knew he would have to say it all again; at least once more when all he wanted to do was to lock it away in the back of his mind and move on. But they weren't going to let him.

He needed to see Aaron, needed to feel the reassurance of his presence, feel his gaze upon him, even if he was still mad at him. He could cope with Aaron being mad at him; there could so easily have been nothing...

Pushing the thought from his mind, he returned to the ward, expecting Aaron to still be sleeping; but his bed was empty.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Tests, the nurse had said. Tests? What did that mean? What were they worried about? What weren't they telling him? Ok, so they had sounded reassuring enough, said it was just routine; Jackson was beginning to hate that word, to be suspicious of it, it was a disguise, a cover up, hiding something; god knows what!

If he could, Jackson would have been pacing the floor, relieving his agitation; but lying on his bed, forcing his body to stillness, his thoughts were cascading, tumbling over one another in his mind; he knew they wouldn't be stilled until he saw Aaron again. He picked up the newspaper, his hands were holding it, but his eyes didn't see it, the words merged meaninglessly in front of him. Lunchtime came; still no Aaron, still no explanation. They placed a tray of food in front of him; his stomach churned at the very thought of it even as he tried to take a bit, just one. He moved the food about on the plate and tried no more.

Time tricked him; grinding to a halt, speeding away from him. Without knowing, without intention, he fell asleep; blessed relief from the hurricane of his thoughts.

He was still sleeping when Aaron returned to the ward

….

Seeing Jackson, Aaron longed to climb on the bed beside him, longed to stretch out next to him, take him in his arms. Instead he sat; heavy with exhaustion, in the chair next to the bed and reaching out took his hand in his own, holding it too gently to wake him.

It was a while before Jackson stirred, seconds longer before he became aware of the quiet presence close to him, still holding his hand.

"Afternoon sleepy head," Aaron smiled. "I seem to spend my time waiting for you to wake up."

"Hi," a dozy, waking smile began to stretch gently across his face. "What tests were they doing? Is everything ok?" Remembering; an edge of fear crept into his voice as he spoke.

"Stop stressing! I'm fine! It was just an x-ray."

"X-rays don't take that long?" questioned Jackson.

"They put some dye stuff in here, "he indicated the drip, still attached to his arm.

"Dye? How do you mean? What were they looking for?"

"Nothing….much….they say I'm peeing blood and…"

"What!" exclaimed Jackson, interrupting him.

"It's just a little bit, apparently. The x-rays can check for kidney damage or something; I don't really understand."

"Didn't you ask?"

"Well, sort of," Aaron gave a half shrug, "but then I threw up in the middle of it all and it's all a bit muddled now. Sorry." He looked sheepishly up at Jackson, trying to smile but not quite managing it.

"We can ask about it later," said Jackson, trying to reassure himself as much Aaron. "Have you seen the police yet?"

"No, they are coming back later," Aaron paused, "how was it?"

"Grim…no...it was ok, they are just doing their job, but….it was just horrible, that's all."

Aaron was silent for a moment, knowing he would have to face them soon, have to try and remember things that were just a blur in his mind; that he didn't want to even try to remember at all.

"There's a telly in the day room," Jackson said. "Fancy something mindless?"

"Mindless will do me fine."

….

Mindless was good; the dayroom was their own, they pulled two chairs close together and solved the murder mystery before Jessica Fletcher. It was all easy to watch; it all made it easy not to think. But the peace, the escape, didn't last for long.

The young doctor found them, but at least the news was good; they could not see any serious damage on Aaron's x-rays, the drip could come down and he could eat and drink.

The police found them; Jackson had to leave, to return to the ward, to wait, impatiently, anxiously looking towards the door at any movement catching his eye.

Sooner than he expected, Aaron returned. The nurses must have caught him too; he no longer had his companion drip stand; but his arm displayed a large square of gauze, tightly secured with white tape.

"Couldn't tell them much," Aaron shrugged, "it's all such a blur; worse for you," looking up at Jackson, he gazed into his eyes, seeing the warmth there; and relief too perhaps.

Evening drew on; visiting time came and passed; they retreated to the day room, pleased to find it empty again. Their ward, although only holding six beds felt stifling, overwhelming with the lingering miasma of illness, of endings.

Escaping into a comedy programme, they missed the tell tale click of the door opening behind them.

"Jackson, Aaron, visitors for you."

The nurse's voice made them both jump; they turned, expecting the police again perhaps.

They didn't expect Paddy and Hazel to walk through the door.

...

Jackson really couldn't remember his mother saying anything on the phone that morning, giving any clue that they would be coming to the hospital. But he might have missed it amongst the muddle in his mind. He didn't care; he was glad to see her, glad to feel her wrap her arms around him, all the safety and security he had felt as a child came flooding back to him.

Aaron struggled out of his chair, almost backing away from them, shock and surprise draining the colour from his face

"You can't make us go back," sudden, overwhelming panic rushed through his body, his voice caught in a sob as he spoke, his distress etched plainly on his face

"Did...did I say anything about you going back?" said Paddy, stunned by the scabbed and bruised face in front of him; bemused by the lack of greeting, by the tears so obviously close to spilling, by Aaron.

"Oh come here, Aaron," said Hazel firmly, taking charge, throwing her arms round his shoulders, feeling him wince in pain, then sink, sobbing as though his heart would break, into her arms. She looked beyond him, catching Paddy's eye; whatever they had discussed, whatever they had predicted as they sped up the motorways, it hadn't been this tear-wracked, fragile shadow of the lad they had waved good bye to barely a week ago.

Holding him; gently rubbing her hand across his back, letting him cry himself out, Hazel made soothing, incomprehensible noises, they meant nothing in themselves but conveyed all the caring, comfort, support – and love – that she could infuse into them. Gradually she felt his tears subside, the sobbing ease; he moved away from her, sinking back into his chair next to Jackson, leaving a patch damp from his tears on her shoulder.

"Right, let's start again then, shall we," she said. "Paddy, sit down, you're making the place look untidy! So, you're not ready to go back to Emmerdale yet then?"

Jackson slid his hand into Aaron's, he didn't care if they saw, he didn't care what they thought; gently, reassuringly, he squeezed, an unspoken message.

"It has been so good, up till yesterday," he said quietly, looking at Aaron, looking into his eyes, seeking his agreement, finding his confirmation.

"Right then," said Paddy. "This is what's going to happen."


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

"So, what do you think?" asked Paddy after he had outlined the plan. "Is that ok with you?

"So we've to have a babysitter," growled Aaron, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. The painkillers were wearing off quickly now, it felt as though every bruise, every abrasion, every ache was beginning to burn throughout his body; it was hard to turn his thoughts to anything else.

"No, you're not listening, Aaron," said Jackson quietly. "Mum would be nearby; but we would have the chalet to ourselves, she would just be there to help. If we need it. And let's face it; I'm not at my best and you're gonna not feel like doing much for a while."

"Yes but..." began Aaron, not quite ready to admit that Jackson was right.

"Aaron!" said Hazel firmly. "Let me tell you how it is! You are not well enough to stay in the van; at least for a good few days. Therefore you go to the chalet – or you go home. Your choice. If you go to the chalet, I will be staying nearby; however, I will keep out of your hair – so to speak," she said, glancing at Aaron's cropped hair.

Jackson looked at Aaron, his warm brown eyes full of encouragement, willing him to say yes. He knew how stubborn Aaron could be, but surely he had to see that this was the best offer they were going to get. They hadn't planned on being home for another week; but if he didn't feel like driving the van, sleeping on a mattress, surely Aaron couldn't either. Not that they would let him anyway; he might be able to shout Paddy down, but against Hazel, not a chance!

Three pairs of eyes looked at Aaron, waiting for him to say something; there was only one pair that really mattered. He could see the hope shining in Jackson's eyes; could see him wanting him to accept their conditions, to let their time together continue. There wasn't any choice really.

"Ok," he muttered quietly, wanting his capitulation over with, done with, forgotten as quickly as possible. "Could someone maybe go and ask when I can get painkillers again."

"I'll go," said Paddy, starting to get up from his chair.

"No, we will," said Hazel quickly, widening her eyes significantly at him, tipping her head, very slightly towards Aaron. "C'mon, Jackson. We bought some new clothes for both of you; you can help me sort them out."

Jackson knew he was being deliberately removed from the room, knew Hazel had decided that Paddy and Aaron needed some time alone together. He stood, and skimmed his hand fleetingly over Aaron's check and head as he passed behind his chair.

The door closed behind them; despite the quietly chattering television, a silence descended on the room; seconds...minutes...it stretched and threatened to become awkward.

Aaron thought about speaking, but he wasn't sure what to say, where to start, how to ignore the increasing pain creeping relentlessly through his body, growing, crystallising behind each mark of the abuse, the beating to which his body had been subjected. Unconsciously, he gritted his teeth; he wouldn't let the tears flow again, he couldn't; just because Paddy had come all that way to see him, that was no reason to cry, was it? The tears flowed all too easily these days, he reflected; but perhaps this wasn't the time to worry.

Paddy took his specs off – then put them on again, fidgeting awkwardly. As soon as he had heard what had happened from Hazel, there was no question but that he was driving the hundreds of miles to Aaron's side. And now here he was in front of him, looking at him so bruised and battered, so different, still trying to be so difficult; nothing had changed, everything had changed. He needed to break the silence; it was hard to know what to say, there was just the confession and he couldn't put that off any longer.

"Aaron...Aaron, your mam...Chas, I...er...I haven't told her yet. About what has happened, we just left. I'm sorry, I should have told her.

"No, Paddy," Aaron rushed to interrupt him. "It's fine...I don't think I could face her just now, she's too...she's just..." he let the words hang in the air, unsure what he meant, just sure that it was Paddy's quiet, bumbling presence he needed now, not the strident tones of his mother.

"But...later...sometime...will you tell her? I don't think I will be able to; even when...when these..." he waved his hand, vaguely gesturing towards the discolouring bruises on his face; the only ones visible to Paddy; the only ones he had shared with anyone yet, even Jackson. The others he pushed from his mind, he hid from his eyes; he couldn't think about them, he couldn't confront their reality yet.

He took a deep breath, steadying the emotion, the panic that he felt beginning to rise in him. "When these have gone," he finished, trying not to let his voice betray the heightened tension he felt.

"Yes...yes of course I will," said Paddy, lapsing back into silence, trying to still the troubled thoughts tumbling through his mind. "It will be alright Aaron...you will get through this, I promise you will." He spoke hurriedly, firmly, trying by the sheer force of his will to make Aaron truly believe that; if he didn't – or couldn't – NO! Paddy cut that thought from his mind.

The door clicked open; a nurse came in with painkillers for Aaron.

Relief from the nagging, gnawing, gut wrenching pain that had been growing, spreading insidiously through his body until he felt as though it would consume him, he looked at the pills in his hand, four multicoloured smarties. He swallowed them hungrily, desperate for the release they would bring.

The nurse was hovering, watching him, making sure he swallowed the pills; he opened his mouth, displayed his hands, palms upwards, proving they had gone.

Paddy smile at the briefest flash of the Aaron he recognised.

"I think you should call it a night now, Mr Livsey, it's late enough and Aaron should get some rest now he's had his meds,"

Momentarily muddled, it took Paddy a moment or two to realise she was speaking to him, thinking he was Mr Livesy, that he was Aaron's dad.

But Aaron had got there before him; had realised her mistake, was delighting in it. Paddy drank in the gentle, genuine smile on his face. Despite his discomfort, Paddy saw that Aaron accepted, relished even, the notion of him as a father figure.

"C'mon Dad," he said, holding his hand up, "help me back to bed." Through his pain, his smile reached his eyes.

...

They were discharged the following afternoon, allowed their freedom after what felt like an eternity but was less than 48 hours.

Aaron walked stiffly to Paddy's car, parked as close to the entrance as he had been able, clutching the boxes of painkillers he had been given and the letters for GPs, in his head all the verbal instructions he had been given. He smiled over at Jackson.

Jackson was travelling in the van, Hazel was driving, he didn't argue, he's learnt many years ago that capitulation saved so much as far as his mother was concerned.

"Where is this place?" he asked as they followed Paddy's car from the car park.

"About 30 miles north, we didn't think you would want to stay too near here. Small village, canal, loch, looked quite nice online," she paused. "It will be alright, you know. I won't get in your way."

"I know mum," Jackson sighed. "I'm just worried about him, that's all. He seems such a mess."

"I know, but he'll be fine. It's hard for him, readjusting his idea of himself, his vision of who he is now, compared to who he was. Just be there for him, be strong for him."

Jackson smiled at his mother, then shut his eyes and let the rhythm of the van lull him into a fitful doze.

There were four chalets, carefully, comfortably far enough apart so none intruded on another's space, tucked down a rough track and close to the canal. From the front they were triangular, surrounded by a wide area of decking and with a balcony at the upstairs level. Opening the door, they entered into an open plan kitchen and dining area with the living area beyond.

Aaron walked slowly through to the first sofa he came to; the journey had tired him more than he wanted to admit, far more than he had expected; for the moment, he just wanted to sit, there would be plenty of time to explore later. He watched as Jackson tried to help Hazel and Paddy bring their things in from the van, including numerous bags from the supermarket shop that Hazel did for them that morning, once it had looked like they would be discharged.

Eventually everything was in and stowed away.

"We are just down the road," reassured Paddy, at the B & B we pointed out. Phone us if you need anything. Actually, phone us later anyway, please." He looked them both, trying to appear stern. "Aaron! Phone me, or we'll be back up!"

"Yes Paddy!" He just wanted them to go; it wasn't that he wasn't grateful to them, he was; they had found them a way of continuing their holiday, a brilliant place to stay. But he just wanted to be alone with Jackson.

Eventually Paddy and Hazel left, hiding the concern, the worry behind smiling masks. It was a relief to know they were only a few hundred yards up the road, not a few hundred miles away. Jackson didn't see the tear slipping down his mother's face as, turning away from them for the last time, she let the mask slip.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Jackson watched them drive away; waving, standing until they were out of sight, forcing himself not to move until the car turned the corner while every nerve in his body was straining to get back to Aaron.

He found him lying on the sofa, stretched the length of it, tensely holding himself against the discomfort of any movement.

"Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee, telly...cheery CD?"

"Coffee and CD please," he smiled.

"Ha! I knew you liked that CD!" exclaimed Jackson, triumphantly, scrabbling round, trying to find the CDs he had brought in from the van.

"Ok, I'll admit it's a guilty pleasure," admitted Aaron, a flush of colour touching his cheeks.

The sounds of the 80s filled the room while Jackson made two mugs of coffee and rummaging among the cupboards Hazel had filled, he found several packets of biscuits. Choosing chocolate ones he put the packet and one mug on a small table near Aaron.

"When can I get more painkillers?" he asked, awkwardly shifting position to reach his coffee more easily.

"A while yet, you very sore?" questioned Jackson.

"Just getting a bit achy; it's fine though. You ok if I just stay here?"

"Of course," replied Jackson.

Only a little time passed before Jackson noticed Aaron was sleeping, his face soft, the tension released from his body. Taking off his trainers and socks, Jackson quietly began to wander about the chalet; he had hardly had time to have a good look round yet.

There were a few books on a shelf, none that particularly appealed to him, and some old DVDs; a folder housed several guide books and leaflets describing the attractions of the area. Climbing the wooden staircase, he found another seating area upstairs, with views over the surrounding shrubs and bushes to the nearby canal, French windows opened onto the small balcony. He found the bedroom, their rucksacks already in residence beside the bed, where either his mother or Paddy had put them; a wave of discomfort swept briefly over him at the thought of either of them confronting the realities of his relationship with Aaron so bluntly. The bed. The bed was very large; he gazed at it, hoping that Aaron would share it with him, no insecurities borne out of the last few days clouding their nights together. There was a bathroom too; mirrored wall, shower, and he couldn't help but smile, just a little, at the huge bath, the taps conveniently sited in the middle rather than at one end.

Downstairs again; he couldn't help but glance at Aaron, sleeping, at peace, as he passed. Double doors led onto the decked area but he ignored them, he could walk round from the main door. Leaving it open in case Aaron should wake, he wandered round the front of the chalet; he could see the three other chalets, cars parked outside two of them, but could see nothing of their decked areas. He gave a quiet sigh of relief; he really didn't want to be bothered with other visitors, experiencing their holiday at one remove. He continued his exploration, his delight increasing with all he saw, all he discovered. Eventually, when he was satisfied he had left no immediate corner unexplored; he sat in the late afternoon sunshine and closed his eyes.

Aaron stirred, moved – and stopped abruptly. More gently now, almost rolling off the sofa to stand; he regained his feet. Perhaps he shouldn't have lain so long, perhaps he would be better keeping moving. Standing, he caught a glimpse of Jackson's head above the deckchair through the glass doors; he opened them, making straight for the chair, drawn relentlessly towards it. He ruffled Jackson's short curls as he passed, feeling his head move under his fingers in acknowledgement as he did so.

"Hey," Jackson greeted him.

"Hey yourself," Aaron returned.

"Come and see what I've found," said Jackson, standing, taking Aaron's hand in his own and leading him around the corner.

Tucked away, screened from view, was a hot tub, already steaming, bubbling like a cauldron.

"Be good for aches and pains," he said encouragingly. Unknowingly he bit his lip, waiting for Aaron's reaction, watching him, watching his face, waiting to see if he could face it, waiting to see if it would be enough, having him beside him.

Aaron looked about him; it was very private, it felt very...very decadent. Looking at Jackson's face, at his chocolate brown eyes gazing intently at him, he knew he wanted to share this experience with him. But there would be other things to share, new things, decorations that hadn't blighted his body the last time they were bare naked together.

He had tried to ignore his bruises, not looking too closely as he had pulled his clothes on. But getting into the tub, even amongst the swirling, bubbling water, he would catch a glimpse of them; he could try avoiding even a glimpse of them. But Jackson would see them.

"It's a bit..." a bit what? What word, what idea was he searching for? How could he tell Jackson how he was feeling? Apprehensive, insecure, dirty, defiled; unconsciously he moved his hand, running it across his stomach. "I'm not sure..." his voice was so quiet, Jackson could hardly hear him. "The bruises," he whispered finally, "I haven't..." he left the words hanging in the air.

Understanding flooded over Jackson; he hadn't looked at his own discoloured skin, but it would be minimal compared to the mottling that must be blighting Aaron's body. Catching Aaron's hand in his own; holding his blue eyes with his own dark ones, silently willing him to be strong, to trust him, he led him back into the chalet and up the stairs.

Into the bedroom, into the bathroom, Jackson led him towards the mirror. Standing side by side in front of it, looking at him in his reflection, he spoke very quietly, very gently.

"We can't let them win."

Keeping his gaze on Aaron in the mirror, Jackson peeled off his tee shirt. Without taking his eyes off Aaron, he pushed his jeans and pants from his hips, stepping out of them; he stood quietly naked, watching as Aaron's eyes flicked quickly over his body in the glass.

Without speaking, Aaron pulled off his own tee shirt, holding Jackson's eyes with his own, gathering strength from his steady gaze. Kicking off his trainers, he paused, needing a moment, a deep, steadying breath before he suddenly, roughly pushed his trackkies and pants to the floor, flinging them away from him as he pulled off his socks.

"Look," whispered Jackson, "look at yourself. They haven't won; you are still beautiful."

Slowly Aaron raised his eyes, steeling himself to confront the visual reality of the assault upon his body. Bruises, still garishly purple, deeply midnight blue were thick over much of his body; he glanced, he looked, but he didn't - he couldn't – keep his gaze fixed on the reflection of his own body.

Still keeping his gaze locked in the mirror, he looked at Jackson, seeing for the first time the damage inflicted upon his lover. Not so vivid, not so wide spread but each mark, each bruise, reminded Aaron; brought back the scene before his eyes again, playing again - a loop of film on repeat.

Reluctantly, unable to stop himself, Aaron dropped his eyes; drawn downwards, he remembered, yet had still to confront that memory. A scattering of bruises, abrasions, were gathered at Jackson's hips. Four small marks, four small bruises, darkly vivid, half hidden by the soft brown curls gathered at his groin, drew Aaron's eyes like magnets. He reached out his hand, stretching his fingers, reaching but not touching, registering the likeness, but knowing they were marks not made by himself at the height of passion.

Tearing his eyes from the mirror, Jackson turned; matching his movement, Aaron turned. Reaching out, Jackson took his hand and placed it gently against his chest, holding it there for a second or two before beginning, very slowly, to lead his hand downwards, down towards his groin.

"Take them back," he whispered, "make them yours, don't be afraid of them."

Slowly Aaron began moving his fingers of his own accord, lining up his finger tips with the bruises. They didn't match, they couldn't match, they weren't his.

Jackson raised his hand and placed it gently on Aaron's chest; holding it there for a second or two before beginning, very slowly, to explore Aaron's own bruises, reclaiming them, making them his own, conquering his fear of them.

Stepping closer, closer, the heat from their bodies merging, mingling, closer than they had been in hours, days, perhaps a lifetime. Their fingers led them in, drawing them closer, arms sliding, holding, hugging until their bodies touched; faces, chests, hips, legs. They hugged, reunited; their lips gently sealing their union.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Their lips gently sealed their union, coming together, tasting each other; very gently Jackson flicked the tip of his tongue into Aaron's mouth, touching the sharp edges of his teeth, feeling his soft yielding tongue, then feeling it push back to meet his own. Deeper, gentle hunger filling them, melting them together; uniting them. Slowly, gradually ending the kiss, Jackson smiled at Aaron.

"We gonna try this hot tub then?" he asked, noticing the apprehension creeping back into Aaron's face as he spoke. "It's ok, I promise."

"I'm not sure," replied Aaron hesitantly; it had been hard for him to reveal his bruises to Jackson in the privacy of the bathroom, to the eyes in the mirror. But to venture outside, to challenge the privacy implied in the position of the hot tub...perhaps that needed more strength than he had just now.

"Why don't you put your tee shirt back on?" Jackson said gently.

"You don't mind?"

"Just do it," he smiled. "The heat will do your aches and pains good, better than all these painkillers anyway.

Aaron reached for his tee shirt and pulled it over his head. A sense of relief sighed through his body as the blotched and discoloured marks were hidden from his view once again.

Jackson grabbed a couple of towels; throwing one to Aaron, he wrapped the other around his waist, tucking the material in upon itself to fasten it. As he secured his own towel low on his slim hips, Aaron allowed his eyes to roam over Jackson's body again. Most of his bruises were hidden now, but they weren't forgotten; yet Jackson had called him beautiful, despite the bruises; looking at Jackson now, looking at him as he had done minutes before, Aaron knew he could apply the word to his lover too. He was seeing beyond the temporary, acknowledging the permanent. The tiniest curve of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips; he would get through this, he was beginning to heal.

Dropping his towel on one of the deckchairs, Jackson was the first to slowly slide into the hot water, gradually, tentatively, letting his body adjust to the bubbling warmth, easing in until the water was licking his shoulders, then rapidly submerging for a second, two seconds, before bursting through the surface of the water, shaking the drops from his eyes and rubbing his hands across his face.

More slowly, Aaron climbed in, his tee shirt ballooning, swirling gently around him as he carefully felt his way under the water, his hands outstretched.

For only two of them, the tub was spacious, large enough to stretch full length, to float. Closing his eyes, Aaron let his feet lift lazily from the bottom of the tub, allowing himself to drift on his back, allowing the warm water to lap around and over his body. Drifting, he felt the lightest, feather touch of Jackson's hand on his leg, pushing him gently out of danger, away from the side of the tub. The feather touch floated away, fingers took their place, still at first then moving slightly, gently, caressing the inside of Aaron's leg, low down at first, near his knee, only slowly, very slowly moving upwards.

Hesitantly, Jackson moved his fingers; unsure at first if it was too much, too soon for Aaron. He didn't want to rush him, didn't want him to feel forced, coerced, but god! he wanted him! Wanted to touch him, take him, possess him, wanted to banish all the bad things, all the bad thoughts, all the bad memories. He shouldn't have suggested that he put that tee shirt back on; he had watched it soak up the water, become saturated, cling to Aaron's body, defining every sculptured line, every muscle. The wet material dragged tight across his chest, he could see his nipples, inviting him, waiting for his fingers...his lips...his teeth...

Aaron splashed upright. "You were right about the water; it's helping a lot," he said, smiling at Jackson. "Gonna give my shoulders a massage though?"

He turned his back towards Jackson and moved close to him, sinking a little lower in the water, allowing his body to relax under Jackson's fingers moving, pushing against his shoulder blades, circling his spine. Under the water, he eased his arse back a little, a little further until he was almost sitting on him, pushing down for a second or two, feeling Jackson beneath him. Again...pushing harder...holding longer...feeling even more.

"Aaron..." began Jackson, hesitantly. "I'm not sure...do you know...?"

"I know Jackson," he whispered huskily, grinding his hips harder than ever against Jackson, arching his back against the feelings, the sensations welling up inside him, threatening to overwhelm him. Awkwardly, rapidly, he pulled the sodden tee shirt free from his body.

Jackson's hands moved, rubbed, caressed his body; sliding round onto his chest, avoiding his teasing, sensitive nipples at first, then catching them between his thumb and finger, rolling, feeling Aaron move, catch his breath at his touch.

Aaron lowered his head, his tongue flicked onto Jackson's fingers, attracting their attention. Jackson raised his hand a little; feeling Aaron's tongue curl round one thin, tapering finger, lifting it to his mouth, nibbling, nipping, one sharp bite before he moved, turned, faced Jackson and claimed his mouth with his own.

With the water supporting his weight, Aaron wrapped his legs around Jackson, moving his arse against him, feeling his cock swelling under him, knowing his own arousal could not be going unnoticed. Even as the thought filled his mind, he felt Jackson take him – god! suddenly he felt as if he would explode at the slightest touch, felt flooded with desire...with need...with pure want.

Jackson ran his free hand around Aaron's arse, feeling, caressing his cheek. Slowly his fingers reached his crack, skimmed up and down, gliding over his hole, feeling it tense – then relax – at the glancing touch. Aware of Aaron's body, moving with pleasure at his touch, Jackson returned his finger to circling his hole, teasing it, feeling it, enjoying the begging contractions rippling across it at his touch, at his entry.

Aaron raised his arse, just a little, increasing the pressure of his legs against Jackson's hips, lifting himself. Lowering, feeling Jackson's finger; sliding onto it, feeing it enter him, take him; Jackson's other hand gently beginning to work his cock.

It was hard to find Jackson's cock, hidden under his own body, rubbed and caressed by his own movements. Letting the water lift him, Aaron slid off Jackson's finger; gently he took Jackson's hand from his cock and placed it on his own, letting his hand cover Jackson's. His blue eyes held Jackson's dark ones, his hand guided Jackson's until he was sure that Jackson had understood what he wanted, until Jackson guided his own cock towards Aaron's hole.

Gasping at the sensation, at being entered so fully, so deeply; with the warm, bubbling water lapping round him, Aaron closed his eyes and let the water take him downwards, let the full length of Jackson enter him, possess him, revelling in the passing discomfort, the momentary pain of love. He clasped his arms tightly around Jackson's neck, his legs gripped tighter around his waist, his whole body clenched, tight, tighter, beginning to spasm as he repeatedly tightened and relaxed every part of his body, setting the pace, milking Jackson with muscles just discovered.

Captured within the enveloping limbs of his lover, surrendering to the sensation of his cock being tightly ridden, Jackson returned his hands to Aaron's cock and began to move them up and down, gripping and relaxing, sliding one hand down to cup his balls, tugging gently at first, feeling the response spreading throughout Aaron's body as he couldn't hold back any more, as he couldn't be gentle; he just wanted to fuck him!

Daylight stars exploded; Jackson could feel the explosions, the spasms building, growing deep within him, taking over his whole body, uncontrollable; he knew he was coming, knew he was coming inside Aaron. That thought alone was enough to tip his mind over to engulfing ecstasy. In his hands, he could feel Aaron's excitement mounting; feel the tension ripping through the body wrapped against his as he revelled in the penetration, the reclamation of his lover's body. The small pool of water between them suddenly clouded with a fountain of pearl-like fluid, skimming, clinging, against their skin. Shaking, shuddering, their lips searching for each other; they hugged close, passion spent, desire sated, demons banished.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

The big bed was empty when Aaron woke; stirring slowly, surfacing, warm dreams playing at the edge of his memory. He moved – abruptly reality asserted itself – and he lay still again. Slowly, carefully, he tried once more, moving each limb in turn, bending his back, then stretching, catching his breath sharply as a stab of pain ripped through him. He stopped; steadying his breathing against the subsiding discomfort, letting his body relax back into the bed again.

Carefully carrying two mugs of coffee in one hand and a plate piled high with toast in the other, Jackson came into the bedroom, unsure if he would find Aaron awake or not. Seeing his eyes open, he smiled even as he registered the tension in Aaron's rigid body.

"I brought your pills up with me," he said, putting the coffee and toast down and pulling the two packets from his pocket. "Looks like you could do with some."

"Thanks," replied Aaron, easing himself up enough to take the packets and pop two pills from each of the blister packs into his mouth, swallowing them down with a large draught of coffee.

Jackson moved the plate of toast onto the bed before perching, cross-legged, facing Aaron.

"This is so gonna fill the bed with crumbs," grumbled Aaron amiably, taking two buttery slices, facing them together and taking a huge, satisfying, bite.

"Oh I'll sort the crumbs out for you," grinned Jackson in mock exasperation. "Can't have that delicate arse of yours grazed by toast crumbs, can we?" His chocolate brown eyes widened as he teased.

Pouting, Aaron stuck his tongue out, but his eyes were sparkling as he took another two slices of toast and bit into them, holding Jackson's gaze with his own as he slowly licked the butter from his lips.

"You are such a shite!" exclaimed Jackson. "Will you stop doing that!"

Aaron lowered his head, pouting again, but looking up at Jackson. "I'm gonna jump in the bath, you gonna join me?"

"'Fraid not; we're expecting visitors. Mum text."

"Oh," Aaron's face fell, he had, for the moment, forgotten their minders.

"And you'd better lock the door, with mum around," continued Jackson.

"She wouldn't!" Aaron's face took on a look of horror.

"Oh yes! She would!" laughed Jackson. "She's walked in on me loads of times, though she would be thinking of nothing more than passing a cup of coffee or asking what I wanted for tea; she kinda forgets I'm not nine anymore! And one time, just after she split up with my dad, she wanted to talk; tell you, the water was stone cold before I could get her out of the bathroom." Smiling, he shook his head at the memories; she might be a bit...exuberant...off the wall...sometimes, but she had given him a good childhood, a secure adolescence, a safe refuge, had allowed him to be the man he was and, reflecting for a second or two, he knew Aaron would have given anything for a childhood such as he had been gifted.

"Right! I'm gonna be in and out before they get here," said Aaron, beginning to move slowly, to ease himself from the bed.

"I'll set it running for you," said Jackson, unwrapping his legs and moving from the bed. "Shame we haven't got any bubble bath."

"Oh for...! First your mother, now you want me to smell gay as well!" Aaron growled cheerfully.

"Thought it would be nice for soaking in," smirked Jackson, disappearing into the bathroom, the sound of fast splashing water coming seconds later. "I'll just chuck some shower gel in!" he called from the bathroom.

He left Aaron to his bath, fighting the temptation to jump in with him; the bath was easily big enough. But he knew, he absolutely knew, that he would just be in the water, soaking wet, and they would arrive, and while Paddy might stay downstairs and wait for them, his mother would come up to let them know they had arrived, would find the door locked and wouldn't let them forget it for at least the rest of the day. It just wasn't worth it.

Aaron sunk into the deep bath; lying, his eyes closed, the hot water rippled over his skin as he gently moved his hands, keeping the water swirling about himself. The heat of the water penetrated through his flesh to the very bones of him. He could feel the indescribable aches, the tension in every muscle, being eased away by the caressing, comforting water. As the water moved, the shower gel - the half bottle that Jackson had over generously squeezed in to the water – released its aroma, filling the bathroom with its musky, pungent smell.

Opening his eyes, breathing deeply, he steeled himself to look again at the marks on his body, to move from a vague awareness in his peripheral vision, to confronting again the mottled discolouration enveloping so much of his body. Jackson had been there yesterday, sharing his own courage, giving him strength; now he was alone. Forcing his eyes downwards; there were the bruises, yet was there a slight change, a difference so slight, so subtle he wasn't sure if it was real or imaginary, but was there a faint yellowing edge to the marks? He couldn't be sure; he knew it would come, but perhaps he was too hopeful, too eager. He let his fingers skim across his chest, glide over the bruises on his stomach, his hips, the ones he could reach; touching them, pressing, feeling the corresponding jolt of discomfort again, like a scab that he had to pick. Closing his eyes again, he sighed, he just wanted to be himself again, he just wanted his body back. Unblemished.

He could hear Hazel's voice as he came down the stairs, the words gradually distinguishing themselves into her description of their evening; the bar restaurant they had gone to for their tea, the meal, the drinks they had had, he said...she said...

"Aaron love!" spotting him, she interrupted her story, gathering him into a bear hug of an embrace before releasing him, then gazing intently into his eyes, scrutinising him as she asked how he was.

"I'm fine Hazel, thanks," he said, feeling vaguely uncomfortable under her gaze, wondering if she could actually know how sore he had been only a short while before; before the magic of painkilling smarties and a hot bath had kicked in.

"Really?" questioned Paddy. He knew Aaron better, knew when he wasn't quite telling the truth.

"Yes Paddy! Jackson is looking after me, I'm taking my painkillers; we're fine. Honestly." He hoped he was sounding reassuring; the last thing he wanted was either of them deciding to stay in the chalet.

"It's just...well...I should really get back to Emmerdale...to the practice...Rhona..." he bumbled.

"He's doing as he's told, Paddy," Jackson, in attempting to allay Paddy's fears, struggled not to laugh as behind their backs, out of their line of vision, Aaron, wrinkled his nose, pulled a quizzical face. "And mum is just up the road," continued Jackson determinedly, not looking at his lover.

"Right! That's settled then!" announced Hazel. "Paddy, you can get away, we'll be fine. Aaron, you'll phone him every day! Won't you?"

"Err...if you want."

"Yes, I do want," agreed Paddy trying to sound firm, looking into the face of the lad who could have been no more of a son to him, had he been his own true flesh and blood. He could hardly bare how hard he was finding it to let go, to let him out of his sight again. He couldn't tell him, of course, couldn't tell him how scared he had been driving the miles across two countries to reach him after Hazel told him what had happened. How scared he had been of what he would find; how scared he was to drive away from him again. But when you loved a son, you had to let him go.

"Do you boys want your van today?" Hazel asked briskly, sensing a swirl of tension, of emotion beginning to gather is the room.

"No," said Jackson, shaking his head, looking to Aaron for confirmation. "We're just staying round here today."

"Well can I borrow it then? Go for a run?"

"Sure mum," replied Jackson

"Right then, I'll away, but I'll be back after four to make your tea. Chicken curry sound ok?"

"Chicken curry?" Paddy managed to sound hopeful and aggrieved at the same time.

His words chimed with Jackson, speaking to Aaron

"Mum makes a very good chicken curry!"

"I'll make one for you next week, Paddy. Meantime, you need to get down that road. Aaron, go and see him off." Her hand on his shoulder, she managed to guide Aaron unexpectedly and gently towards Paddy and the door.

Almost without realising how it happened, Paddy and Aaron found themselves outside the chalet. For a moment, the silence threatened to be awkward, stretching; Aaron knew he should say something, knew he needed to say something to the man beside him.

"Paddy, I..."

"Aaron..."

After the silence, their voices chimed together, against each other.

"You first," said Paddy.

"I really am ok, Paddy."

"Cos I can stay if you want me to; if you need me."

"Paddy, I'll always need you..." Aaron paused, steepling his fingers against his face, searching for the words to express how he was feeling. "But I just need time, time to sort out the stuff that is going round in my head," he hesitated; it was easier to talk vaguely about stuff in his head than to confess his fear of the marks on his body. "And just now, just at this moment, it is Jackson that I need to be with. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," replied Paddy quickly, urgently. "You've nothing to be sorry for. At all. Just so long as...so long as...you're fine," he finished lamely; not the words he wanted but he hoped they conveyed enough of his meaning. To be sure, he pulled Aaron into an embrace, hugging him so close that he could swear he felt their hearts colliding, beating together through their shirts, their bodies, their love.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

"Fancy a walk?" Jackson asked. "Might help to keep moving a bit," he continued encouragingly, looking over towards Aaron.

"Yeah, ok. Not too far though, eh?" Without moving from the sofa, he stretched; he had taken a second lot of painkillers in the early afternoon, perhaps a little bit soon, but he was allowed four doses a day and that still left him some for the early evening and at bedtime.

They had spent a lazy morning, relishing the return to their own peace once Paddy and Hazel had left. Sitting out on the decking, talking or silent, sharing coffee and lunch; the sun shone warmly down on them.

Neither of them had paid much attention to their surroundings as they had arrived yesterday; everything was new. Slowly, just ambling, they made their way along the rutted track leading away from the chalets; there was a slight incline on the path, hiding from view until the last minute the curve of a still, glistening snake of water that stretched to the far distance on their right and to their left, just a little way off, widened, allowing boats to tie up at the pontoons that lined each side. Further in the distance, they could see roofs, the red-brick edge of a building or two, the first or last houses of a village.

"Right or left?" asked Jackson, smiling as he realised the words echoed those he used at the very beginning of their holiday.

"Left!" said Aaron decisively. "It doesn't look too far."

The wide tow path closely followed the line of the canal; a small cruiser chugged towards them, by them, as they walked slowly along, the occupants waving enthusiastically as they passed. Jackson turned and waved back as the boat disappeared into the distance behind them.

Aaron walked slowly, his hands in his pockets, lost in his thoughts; looking at the scenery around him, at the cotton-wool cloud toped hills in the distance, at the water sparkling in the sunshine beside him but seeing none of it. His tumbling, spinning thoughts were miles away; thirty miles away, three nights away; in the safe, bright sunlight he had drifted back in time, searching for elusive memories, trying to fill in the blanks that still clouded that night. He had the evidence; he could feel the evidence with every step, every movement but his mind was playing tricks with him, he couldn't remember.

Jackson walked at Aaron's side, lost in his thoughts; enjoying the sun, the scenery around him. Unconsciously, unknowingly, he moved his arm, lifting it a little, his fingers reached for Aaron's elbow, touching, connecting, his hand slid through Aaron's arm, linking.

"What the hell d'you think you're doing!" Aaron spat, furiously throwing off Jackson's arm, stepping away from him, glaring at him; sudden, flaring anger exploding, overflowing, flooding from every pore of his body, threatening to suffocate him.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean...Aaron, I..." he stuttered, stumbling over his words, overwhelming shock surging through his body. A spasm of fear, fear of Aaron, fear for Aaron, ripped through him so vividly, so urgently, that it might have been a physical knife, ripping his skin, piercing his heart. He stepped back, one step, two, needing to put distance between them; suddenly trembling, he clasped his arms protectively about himself.

"Oh Jay! I'm sorry! God I'm so sorry!" As quickly as it had erupted, his anger had gone, replaced by tears filling, flooding the pain in his blue eyes. He stood still; confusion joined the emotions playing so clearly across his face, what had happened? What the hell had just happened? Oh god! had he hit him? Had he hit him again? Backing away, watching him, unable to tear his eyes from his face, but he had to move, had to get away, one step, two steps backwards; he couldn't bare to think of what he had just done, what he could have done.

"Aaron," Jackson whispered his name. "Aaron, it's ok," he took a step forward; he would have liked to take him in his arms, to hold him tight, force the pain out of him through the sheer strength of his will power. He wanted to put his hands to his face, brush away his tears with his fingers, see his eyes clear. Instead he just stood in front of him, holding his gaze firmly with his own, hoping he was reaching him, reassuring him. "It's ok. Come and sit down."

He crossed the tow path and sat on the bank, facing the water. No boats were passing now; there was nothing to disturb the gentle lap of the water against the pebbly edge. Jackson picked at a blade of grass, shredding it, waiting.

Aaron sank to the grass beside him; he didn't say anything, he couldn't say anything, there was nothing to say.

Jackson broke the silence; "What happened, Aaron?" he paused, but the silence lingered, stretched. "Aaron, I need you to try and talk to me. I'm so sorry I touched you, freaked you out; I really, really, didn't mean to do that. But that was more, wasn't it?" Still nothing; Jackson could feel his anxiety beginning to grow, a real fear knotting in his chest.

"Aaron, you trust me don't you?" even to his own ears, he could hear the quiver of panic in his voice. "I need you to trust me, Aaron; I need you to let me in, let me help you. I'll wait, Aaron, wait till you're ready." Trying to steady his breathing, he lay back in the grass; it was easier to close his eyes.

Still Aaron said nothing.

But suddenly, slowly, Jackson was aware of a finger touching his, just a finger tip, a hesitant touch, a touch waiting for acceptance or rejection. He moved his own finger, gently rubbing the other, accepting. The finger slid round his own, catching it, capturing it. Braver now, Aaron's hand clasped Jackson's and gripped it, gripped it as though he never wanted to let it go.

"Aaron. We need to talk," whispered Jackson.

...

For a while they stayed on the canal bank; Aaron spoke - hesitantly at first - the words started slowly, then gathering strength, flowed, tumbling over each other as he let go of so many thoughts, ideas; baggage carried round with him for years and sudden, new fears, only a few days old. Tears slid unnoticed down his face as he gathered strength from the man beside him; letting him in, accepting the comfort of his softly spoken words.

But it was only when they were back in the chalet that Aaron finally let Jackson take him in his arms, hold him, wrap him in a cocoon of safety that was more than just the physical reality of being held close, finally, for now, the safety reached his mind.

Exhausted, he slept.

...

He was still sleeping when Hazel returned, at nearer five than four. Putting the magazine down that he had been half heartedly reading, Jackson put his finger to his lip, shushing her, indicating the sleeping figure.

"Aww, bless," said Hazel, almost whispering. "Did you have a nice day, love?" She began searching the cupboards and fridge as she spoke, gathering things to make the curry.

"Erm...yes," Jackson hesitated. "Yes it was fine; we walked up the canal bank a little way."

"That's nice, a bit of exercise. Oh look, he's waking up. Hello Aaron love!"

Aaron wriggled to a sitting position, looking at Hazel and Jackson over the back of the sofa.

"Here! I got you a few bits," said Hazel cheerfully, heaving a several plastic bags over to where Aaron was sprawled. "A couple of cans each..."

"Aw mum, he shouldn't," interrupted Jackson, "the painkillers."

"So that's why I got lemonade too," she produced a large bottle from the bag, "he can have a weak shandy! And here, this is for you." She handed Jackson a bag.

"Paints!" he exclaimed, looking inside.

"Paints?" questioned Aaron at the same time.

"He's quite a good little artist, when he wants to be," said Hazel proudly to Aaron. "Not quite as good as me though, of course," she chuckled. "Now," she looked at Aaron, "what's it to be? Crossstitch or crochet? Though I dare say, Jackson wouldn't mind you sharing his paints." She waved another plastic bag at him.

"What!" gasped Aaron incredulously. Was she seriously asking him if he wanted to do crossstitch?

"Mu-um," said Jackson, his voice resigned. "She's joking," he explained to Aaron.

Hazel pulled a face at her son. "It's just a couple of car mags, love. Not very exciting I'm afraid."

"That's great, Hazel, thanks." Aaron smiled at her. "How long is this curry gonna be, I'm starving."

An hour later she was dishing it out, ladling it onto two plates.

"Why just two?" questioned Aaron as he took cutlery from a drawer.

"I thought I'd take mine back to the B & B," she said, indicating a plastic food box on the worktop.

"Oh no Hazel, stay and eat with us," said Aaron quickly. "After you've gone to all the trouble to make it an' all."

"Well, if you're sure," she said, hesitating. "I don't want to intrude."

"You're not!" said Aaron quickly.

"Well I will then, thank you. Although I can't stay long, the woman at the B & B is taking to a whist night at the local."

"Whist?" said Aaron puzzled.

"It's a card game," explained Jackson.

"Surprised you know that," retorted Hazel. "Thought the only card game you knew was snap. Oh dear! Was it something I said or is there lumps in that lager, look at the two of you coughing and spluttering."

...

Later, in the darkness, in the soft comfort of the large double bed, Aaron cuddled deeply into his lover's arms and thanked every star at the luck that had brought Jackson into his life.

Later, in the darkness, in the soft comfort of the large double bed, Jackson held his lover tightly in his arms and vowed never to let him go.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Jackson looked across at Aaron sprawled on the sofa; he had his eyes closed, but Jackson was fairly sure he wasn't asleep. They hadn't spoken of yesterday, of the canal, the conversation, again but he would have taken good odds that it was churning round in Aaron's head. Aaron was a hurricane, he reflected, a rollercoaster; a messed up kid, a hot, sexy gay man and he was struggling to find a balance; in himself, who he is, what he is; and in his life, family, friends, with his boyfriend...he grimaced wryly to himself. Sometimes it was hard to keep up.

He picked up the pad of heavy grade paper his mother had bought yesterday; he wasn't ready to break the seals on the little tubes of paint yet, but lifting a pencil, he pressed the lead gently against the page, the first line, the outline; he looked up at Aaron, there was no question, he was all he wanted to draw.

It had been years since he had drawn for pleasure; work, real life always seeming to get in the way. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed it; he had forgotten how you had to look at your subject, really look, so differently...he raised his eyes to gaze at Aaron, his pencil stilled against the paper.

"I can feel you, you know," Aaron murmured.

"What do you mean?" asked Jackson, surprised by his words,

"I can feel you looking at me," he opened his eyes, raised an eyebrow and looked across the room to where Jackson was sitting. "What are you doing anyway?"

"Drawing. Drawing you."

"I always know..." Aaron closed his eyes again, his voice quiet, almost dreamy. "Sometimes I think I can even hear you looking at me." He paused, "and don't say that sounds daft; I know what I mean." He opened his eyes again, swung his legs over the side of the sofa and sat up. "Let's have a look then?"

Shyly, hesitantly, Jackson held out the paper; suddenly it mattered very much what Aaron thought of the few faint lines on the page.

Jackson couldn't read the expression on his face, the look in his eyes, as he stared at the paper, only when he smiled, turned his eyes back towards him, did he realise he had been holding his breath, awaiting his approval. His breath sighed, escaping from between his partly open lips.

"It's good; it's...strange...seeing how you see me. Different. Totally bizarre!"

"It's just a scribble really, you weren't really sitting right."

"So how should I be sitting then?" Aaron asked.

"Well, sitting more upright than you were, but a bit sideways." Jackson put his hand on Aaron's shoulder, easing him to the position he wanted. He stood back, looking, thinking, admiring. "Would you take your trackkies off? Then pull your tee shirt down to hide your boxers.

"Err...I haven't got any boxers on," awkward at his admission, a blush spread over Aaron's face, even as he began to tug his trackkies from his hips and wriggle them down his legs.

"Well just pull your tee shirt down anyway; it's not that sort of picture," smiled Jackson. "Now, just bend your leg..."

Taking up his pencil again, Jackson began to draw, more confidently this time; quick, firm strokes on the page, capturing the outline, the essence hinted at, suggested by subtle shading, shadowy depth. Lost in looking, lost in the image appearing on the page before him; unsubtle, the lines faltered at times, flaws, part of the whole picture, part of the whole being in front of him. And he gathered the flaws to him; part of the picture.

It was done. Had he taken forever or was time playing tricks on him. Aaron had said nothing, had sat, almost unmoving, gazing past Jackson's shoulder as asked. Jackson wondered where he had gone; where his mind had wandered as he worked, as he scribbled. It hadn't shown on his face; his eyes, the mirror of his soul, were unclouded, his brow unlined, no tension revealed.

"Do you want to look?" Jackson held the paper towards him.

Aaron smiled, his hand reaching, his fingers sweeping against Jackson's as he accepted the drawing.

"It felt like you were undressing me, not my clothes, not my skin, but_ me_; I can't explain it any better. It's good too, but I'm not sure it is really me."

Jackson raised a questioning eyebrow, encouraging.

"You see a different me, from the me that I know, from the me I live with, the me I am."

"You make that sound as if I have got the wrong you," said Jackson quietly.

"You have."

"Maybe I have got the right one, maybe you need to reassess how you see yourself, how you are."

"Nah, I don't think so," Aaron's voice was quiet, even sad. "But I don't think you have realised that, even yet, even after...everything."

A cold icicle a fear began to creep into Jackson's heart, suddenly the rollercoaster was plunging downhill. He didn't know if he could stop it. But he had to try; now.

He crouched down; his face was lower than Aaron's, resting his arms on Aaron's legs, seeking out his eyes with his own, holding them.

"No Aaron, you're wrong." Jackson struggled to keep his voice quiet but firm; emotion now might ruin everything. "I do know you, I can see right through you. Perhaps not at first, when we first started going out, but now...ok you can surprise me – and I might take a bit of time to catch up – but I always...always know where you are coming from."

"You're a sucker for punishment then," said Aaron, a smile beginning to curl at the corner of his mouth, the moment of danger past.

"Nah," said Jackson, "I'm a sucker for gorgeous blue eyes and a fit body. A body that I haven't explored for - oh – hours."

Aaron pulled him up, onto the sofa, onto his body.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

The walk was longer than he had expected, longer than it had looked when they emerged again onto the canal tow path and turned left, turned towards the collection of buildings marking the beginning of the village. They had reached the wider, basin like area of water; a number of boats were moored at pontoons on either side, in front of them a flight of locks took the canal downhill.

"Can we grab a seat a minute," asked Aaron, nodding to a bench nearby. He moved towards it even before Jackson agreed.

Stretching, easing the ache in his back, he closed his eyes. The sun was hazed behind cloud, but the afternoon was still warm, although not perhaps warm enough to explain the sweat prickling the back of his neck and across his shoulders.

"You ok?" Jackson questioned.

"Yeah, just need a bit of a rest." He sat up and looked back along the path they had walked; it was no distance, barely the distance from Smithy to the garage and back, yet he felt exhausted.

"We can turn back if you want?" said Jackson, noticing now the pallor on Aaron's cheeks.

"No, let's go on a bit further," said Aaron determinedly. He didn't want to give in to the discomfort anymore.

"If it's too far for you," began Jackson.

"It's not too far at all!" Aaron interrupted, almost snapping. Controlling his sudden outburst with an effort, he took a deep, steadying breath. "Sorry," he smiled sheepishly, "I'm just a bit fed up with not being able to move without being sore."

"Have you looked at yourself recently? It's only four days since you were beaten black and blue and you're still twenty shades of purple," he said, concern, and remembered fear at seeing his lover beaten and kicked to the floor leant urgency to Jackson's words. "Or at least you were when I last looked," he added, trying to lighten the moment, his brown eyes widening, teasingly.

"Yeah, I know; I'm just an impatient git – add it to my list of faults!" Aaron smiled wryly at Jackson, he knew the grief that he caused Jackson; he could recite in his mind all the times he flew off the handle, see in his mind's eye the distress on Jackson's face each time he let him down, a streak of aggression constantly bubbling below the surface, quick to boil, to overflow into anger, violence; everything Jackson hated. But four nights ago, he had made Jackson proud of him; it had not been him instigating the attack, the violence, that was worth the bruises, the discomfort – no, the pain – by itself.

"Come on," Aaron stood up. "Your mum said there was a chip shop near the locks, let's go and find it."

Twenty minutes later they were sitting on the small wall bordering the canal, a portion of chips and curry sauce each and a white pudding to share.

"This remind you of anything" asked Aaron, breaking the pudding in half and moving to take a bite of his piece, letting the tip of his tongue touch the rounded end first before taking a first, suggestive bite.

"Well I don't know about you, but mine's not battered," smirked Jackson, trying to resist Aaron's teasing. "Oh Aaron, just eat it! It's like watching food porn, watching you eat! And you always do it"

"Only to you, babes, only to you," chuckled Aaron taking a chip and dunking it in his pot of sauce; he paused, making sure he had Jackson's attention, catching his eyes with his own before bringing the chip to his mouth.

Smiling, shaking his head in exasperation, Jackson turned a little; god! Aaron could be such a flirt when he wanted to be. Why couldn't he be like that all the time? Why did the rollercoaster go downhill so often? Jackson knew the answer.

"Did you bring your phone?" Aaron asked. "Maybe text your mum, tell her we've eaten."

"Mmmm, good idea," said Jackson, popping the last of his white pudding into his mouth and reaching into his pocket for his phone.

Leaving him to his texting, Aaron stood and wandered closer to the canal. Looking down the flight he could see a couple of boats three or four locks down, waiting for the water to fill the chamber before being able to move. There was a wide paved pathway on either side of the canal and plenty of people further down, closer to the boats, watching. It looked busy, buzzing, inviting, but he knew he really couldn't walk any further down today; he wasn't relishing the idea of the walk back.

"She's gonna pop down in a bit anyway," said Jackson, joining Aaron at the canal side. "Do you want to stay and watch the boats come up?"

"Nah, I'd rather get back. I'll be due more pills and I think I'll go in the hot tub, have a bit of a soak."

If anything, the walk back was slower than their earlier walk, but at least every footstep was taking them in the right direction. Aaron could almost feel the relief seeping through his body as they came to the track that led from the tow path to their chalet; of its own volition, his body seemed to move a little easier, the aches seemed a little less bothersome. He knew it was an illusion, but it made it easier to bear.

...

The warm water caressed his body as he slid slowly into the tub, letting it lap up his legs, soaking the boxers, soaking the tee shirt, he had kept on, deeper, deeper, until his whole body was under the surface, letting the water blank out the light, the day, for a brief moment. Pushing himself upwards again, he rubbed the water out of his eyes and tried to let his body relax into the warmth, relax into the embracing warmth.

He could hear quiet music drifting through the open double doors from the chalet, something soft and gentle, he couldn't place which CD it was, but the music was calming, seductive almost. He closed his eyes.

Jackson watched him through the window; he would have liked to join him in the tub, but not yet, not until after his mum had been, and gone. He moved to the sofa and picked up the picture he had drawn earlier, taking the pencil again, he began to add to it, a little shading, a little detail. His eyes were drawn into the picture; he found it hard to be critical, had he captured Aaron, the essential Aaron? He thought he had earlier, but now he wasn't so sure. So lost in his own thoughts, so submerged in the picture, he didn't hear the click of the door behind him.

"Don't over work it, that always was your problem; never knew when to leave well enough alone." Hazel came up beside him, peering over his shoulder. "Mmm, nice, but leave it at that, eh?"

Jackson put the drawing down but picked it up again as Hazel waggled her hand at him, indication he should pass it over to her. Leaning forward, he handed her the drawing pad, waiting as she looked at the picture, watching her, trying to gauge her reaction.

"He's got nice legs, I'll say that for him...but you should have got him to take off his tee shirt."

"Mu-um," embarrassment flooded through Jackson as he spoke, "it's not that sort of picture."

Hazel looked unbelievingly at her son. "Jackson! It is _so_ that sort of picture! Look at it! That is not the relationship between an artist and a model." She waved the pad at him, emphasising her words. "Oh Jackson...I really hadn't realised..." she let the words trail away seeing the tinge of colour beginning to touch his cheeks. "Does he know...feel the same?"

"Yes...I think so...yes...I'm sure...well...fairly sure."

"Oh Jackson!" Hazel handed the pad back to him, shaking her head a little. She moved towards the open double doors, wondering if their conversation had been heard by Aaron out in the tub; wondering what he truly felt about her son, wondering if he even realised how deep Jackson's feelings ran.

"Hello Aaron love!" she called, stifling her worries in her cheery tones as she moved out of the doors.

The loud, cheerful voice made Aaron jump; he hadn't realised that Hazel had already arrived, that she was walking purposefully towards the hot tub. He jumped, splashed, stumbled, spluttered, made sure his tee shirt was down and returned her greeting.

"Ooh Aaron! If only I was twenty years younger – and you were straight of course!"

"Oh mum!" Jackson had followed her outside, had heard her teasing remarks.

"Oh well, alright then, thirty years younger! Oh Jackson! Don't look so worried, I'm only joking!" She looked between the two young men, were they ok? she hoped they were ok? what sort of ok did she mean? Smiling a little, she shook her head wryly. Nothing she could do anyway.

"Right boys, if you're fine, I won't stop, there's a ceilidh at the village hall tonight and I need to get my glad rags on."

"Oh! Right!" Jackson felt surprised, bemused; he had expected his mother to have stayed longer, to have more to say, to have given her opinion – forcefully. But then...maybe she had.

He walked out to the van with her, still expecting...he wasn't sure what, but something.

"Can we get the van tomorrow, mum," he asked. "Just to go right into the village; it's just a bit too far for Aaron to walk yet."

"Course son, I'll drop it down first thing."

"You're ok, he can manage as far as yours, we'll pick it up."

Hazel climbed into the van; she looked down at her son. "If you're sure," she said, "if you are really sure." Her eyes met his; she knew her son, she knew he was truly sure.

...

Jackson dropped his clothes on the sofa as he passed; as he emerged onto the decking by the hot tub he could see that Aaron had already discarded his tee shirt and boxers, a soggy pile on the wood oozed water.

"I'd hoped you would join me," Aaron smiled, his tongue flicking unconsciously over his lips.

Jackson slid quickly over the edge, into the warm, welcoming water. "Been looking forward to it; let's hope she hasn't forgotten anything and comes back."

"She'd get a bit of a shock then, wouldn't she," said Aaron, pulling Jackson towards him, searching, finding his lips, feeling his response in his lips, tongue and lower, lower, feeling his cock beginning to grow, pressed against his body. "Oh Jackson, I want you so much!"

"I thought you were knackered," teased Jackson, running his hands over Aaron's chest, finding his nipples, feeling their response.

"I'm high on prescription drugs, warm water and pure lust," said Aaron, dipping his hand low in the water, moving his body a little, letting his fingers touch, caress, grip Jackson's swollen cock; he began to slide his hand up and down. His mouth found Jackson's again, their lips meeting, their tongues dancing round each other. Finding his rhythm, Aaron watched Jackson's face, watching the urgency, watching the emotion play over it, watching his face change as his hand moved, his grip changed, teasing, playing.

"I think we should go to bed, Jay," Aaron whispered huskily. "I want to take you in my mouth, suck you off, swallow your cum, then fuck you silly for the rest of the night."

One last crashing collision of lips, tongues, bodies held tightly, urgently, needily against each other, wanting to end the moment, to retreat to the bedroom; reluctant to end the moment, to leave to caressing water.

Holding his hand out to Aaron, Jackson helped him from the water; lust led them to the bedroom, passion filled their night.


	32. Chapter 32

_Just want to say thanks again to everyone who has stuck with this rather long and rambling story, [don't worry, I think the end is in sight] and all your lovely reviews. G. x_

Chapter 32

Jackson opened his eyes, rubbed the sleep from them and looked across the covers to Aaron; to where Aaron should be lying. The bed was empty, he was alone, when did Aaron ever wake up before him? A noise in the bathroom caught his attention; he pushed himself upwards, pulling the covers halfway up his naked chest.

The door was open but at first he could see nothing, just hear the splash of water; he considered getting up and joining his lover, stepping into the deep bath, sitting opposite him – or perhaps in front of him, pushing his back against his chest, his arse into his lap, feeling...the sound of water gurgling noisily as it swirled its way out of the bath broke into his reverie; he had missed his chance.

Aaron came into view, his back to the bedroom, to Jackson. He had a towel in his hands, but he wasn't drying himself, the towel hung from his hands clasped against his chest as he stood in front of the mirror. Jackson could see the water beading on his skin, unheeded; he watched him turn, very slightly, knew he was looking at the bruises that still discoloured his skin, still blotched purple and midnight blue, but even from where he lay in the bed, Jackson could see that there was a difference, a lightening, a healing to them.

He slid from the bed and padded across to the bathroom; Aaron heard him, he knew Aaron heard him, he saw his slight movement, felt his anticipation. Coming up behind him, Jackson put his hands on Aaron's arms, tightened his grip briefly, reassuringly, then dropped a feather light kiss on the nape of his neck, feeling the spikiness of his hair against his lips. Feeling Aaron move, so slightly, pushing back into him, arching his back, offering his neck to him, Jackson kissed him again, gently, tenderly, his lips tracing their way from his neck, to the curve meeting his shoulder.

In his arms, Aaron slowly, slowly turned; pulling away a little until he found Jackson's lips with his own, capturing them, possessing them. Dropping the towel, he slid his arms around Jackson, pulling him towards him, moving one hand lower, gliding over his body, caressing the cheeks of his arse.

"Morning," said Jackson, when finally their lips parted. "Sorry I was too late to join you."

"No worries," smiled Aaron.

"How d'you feel? They're getting better, aren't they?" Jackson nodded towards his bruises.

"Yeah. I think they are. And I think I'll leave off the painkillers till later too." He reached for the abandoned towel and wrapped it around his hips. "You want coffee?"

"If you're sure. About the painkillers, I mean. And yes to coffee. I'll just jump in the shower quickly, then be down."

Leaving the bathroom to Jackson, Aaron dressed quickly and headed down to the kitchen. For the first time in days he felt more like himself; still aware, still feeling some aching discomfort, but improving. He set the kettle to boil.

...

"You gonna be alright driving," asked Aaron a while later as they devoured a pile of toast.

"Yeah, I'll be fine, we're not going far. Besides we're gonna have to drive home sometime; can't stay here forever."

"I wish we could." Aaron's voice was wistful; the thought of returning to Emmerdale filled him with dread. Everything would be different; nothing would have changed.

"Hey! We're not going just yet!" said Jackson. "Don't get all gloomy on me now." Jackson looked at Aaron, pleading, teasing in his chocolate brown eyes.

"Sorry," Aaron smiled at him; a rather weak, rather half-hearted smile touching the corners of his mouth.

"Take a picnic? Stay out all day?" asked Jackson, gathering up their empty plates and mugs.

"Yeah. That'd be nice," agreed Aaron, looking at Jackson. He would cheer up, it was just the sudden thought that they would have to go home; he had been avoiding any thought of Emmerdale, had been quite successful, until Jackson mentioned it. He must have been thinking about it too, Aaron reflected; maybe he was looking forward to it. They hadn't talked at all about what they would do when they got home. He couldn't face thinking about it, not just now, not yet, not today.

It didn't take them long to gather some food together; sandwiches; ham, cheese, at least there was pickle this time thought Aaron, spreading it thickly; crisps, fruit, juice.

"You ok to walk up the path to get the van?" asked Jackson. "I can always just go myself and come back for you."

"Don't be daft," Aaron retorted quickly, "it's not as far as we walked yesterday. I'll be fine. I have split the picnic between two bags though," he admitted, hating to admit any weakness.

Jackson smiled at him, saying nothing, knowing when to say nothing, just glad he was allowing him to help, even a little.

It didn't take them long to reach the B & B where Hazel was staying and collect the keys and the van, reassure her they would not be going very far, reassure her they had their phones – charged, reassure her they would be home for tea, reassure her that sausages with onion gravy and mash would be fine. Escape.

Pulling away, Jackson's hand moved from the gearstick, across to Aaron's leg, quickly caressing. Reversing the movement, Aaron let his hand rest on Jackson's leg, slowly caressing.

Following Hazel's instructions, they drove down the canalside beside the locks, empty of boats this time, and reaching the main road, crossed it. Another few hundred yards and they reached the end of the canal; they parked beside cars already there, leaving the van, they walked down a very short, very stony pier.

A huge expanse of water opened up before them, long and narrow, stretching miles into the distance, as far as their eyes could see. Sharp hills rose abruptly either side of them, enclosing the water; above them, perfect blue sky completed the postcard picture.

"Some view," said Jackson. "There's boat trips; apparently. If you fancy."

"Maybe later; can we just have a little drive round for now?"

"Yeah sure, c'mon."

They got back in the van and drove round the village, getting their bearings before heading down one of the small side roads.

"It's good to be back in the van," said Aaron, sliding down in the seat, resting his feet on the dashboard. "Where are we heading?"

"No idea!" said Jackson cheerfully. "But we won't go further than ten or twelve miles; maybe fifteen. See where we end up. Just remember the way we came because we haven't got the map in the van."

Aaron grinned at him.

The van rattled up the single track road that climbed out of the village, into the hills. They stopped a couple of times to take photos on their phones, admire the view. There was no hurry; the road didn't allow them to hurry, but that was fine by them. Another, even smaller road; nine miles, ten miles eleven miles.

"There! Turn there!" Aaron exclaimed. "Picnic area!"

Jackson pulled off the road, there were no other cars there, they had the place to themselves; a line of parking bays were along one side, opposite, a fast flowing bubbling cauldron of a river.

"This'll do nicely," smiled Aaron.

"For what?" asked Jackson.

"For having you." Aaron looked directly at Jackson, watching him, watching the response in his eyes; seeing them widen, seeing anticipation, seeing desire flash into them. "I missed you this morning, and it's a while since we did it outside."

"Oh I love it when you talk dirty!" laughed Jackson.

Moving a little way from the main picnic area, following the river, they found a grassy bank, hidden from casual view. They had no blanket, but the grass was bone dry. Jackson flung himself to the ground on his back, watching Aaron expectantly.

Easing himself down more slowly, Aaron lay on his side, as close to his lover's body as he could. He began to play his hand over Jackson's chest, feeling him through his tee shirt, letting he fingers move...oh so slowly...towards his nipples. He slid his hand under Jackson's tee shirt, loving the feeling of his hands gliding over the soft, smooth skin of his chest.

Jackson closed his eyes, giving himself up, surrendering, to the feelings filling his body, flowing from head to toe, flowing from Aaron's fingertips, caressing him, exploring his body. He felt his fingers begin to move lower, felt the slight tug as Aaron undid the button on his jeans, felt the jerk as he undid his zip. Jackson raised his hips, just a little; Aaron slid his jeans and boxers down, freeing his swollen cock. Pushing up Jackson's tee shirt, Aaron returned his attention to Jackson's chest, nipples; lowering his head, he let his tongue flick around them, over them, teasing, arousing until he took them between his lips, his teeth, licking, sucking, nibbling, biting...all the while his hand on his cock; feather-light touches, running his fingers up and down its full length, a firmer grip, moving his hand faster up and down.

"You ok, Jay? Does that feel good? I hope so; I want you to feel good, so good. But I want you to feel better, Jay. What do you want Jay? My mouth or my hand."

"Oh god I don't care!" gasped Jackson, his body so on fire that he could hardly string a coherent thought together, his body so quickly, so desperately needing release.

Moving, Aaron straddled his lover, took his throbbing cock in his mouth, just a little at first, licking his slit, teasing with his tongue, tasting the juice already flowing. He could feel his own cock, hard against Jackson's chest, needing something for himself; he pushed against him, just for a moment, just for a shuddering moment.

Deeper, deeper, he could feel Jackson getting closer, feel the clenching in his balls, the spasm beginning deep within his body, feel, taste the cum exploding into his mouth, sharing, drinking it down.

Aaron knew he was drunk on his lovers cum...and he felt wonderful.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Fried onions! Could there be a better smell in the world Aaron wondered as he got down from the van, the delicious aroma drifting on the air, surrounding them, enticing them.

"Your mum's here then," he said, nodding towards the chalet.

"Yeah...sorry," replied Jackson, a little awkwardly. "It's the onion gravy; she cooks it forever."

"It's fine," Aaron reassured him. "Your mum's ok. It was good of her to drop everything and come up with Paddy."

"Have you heard from Chas at all?" Jackson asked quietly. Aaron hadn't mentioned his mother in days; he thought he would have said if he had heard from her; he knew he wouldn't mention the pain if he hadn't.

Aaron shook his head. "Nah, not a thing. Paddy said he told her. She probably thinks I just got what I deserved." An edge of bitterness crept into his words. "This onion gravy; is it as good as her curry then?" Determinedly, he changed the subject.

"Actually, it does tend to be rather good," replied Jackson, answering his question; worrying about the hurt and pain he still held, though more usually hidden, in the jaundiced view he had of his mother.

The smell was even more appetising as they opened the chalet door; sausages, their aroma mixing fragrantly with the onions as they sizzled in the pan, Hazel was teasing them round and round, chasing them with a plastic spatula, daring them to stick, to burn.

"Nice day, boys?" she asked as they come in, smiling to herself as they both veered towards the cooker as they passed, peering into the pan. She raised her spatula threateningly at Jackson as he came too close. "Pinch one bit of onion and you're mince, son! It will be an hour or so; out of the kitchen! Both of you!"

Smiling, enjoying the banter, letting it lift the momentary glumness the thought of Chas had wrapped him in, Aaron kicked off his trainers, dropped onto the sofa and stretched out. He was tired; more tired than he ever remembered; but it was worth it, it had been a lovely day; and he had managed on only one dose of painkillers, although he would need more shortly.

Jackson switched on the television, sitting at the opposite end of the sofa to Aaron, began flipping through the channels.

"You fussy?" he asked, nodding between the television and the remote in his hand.

"Nah," replied Aaron, "gonna close my eyes or a few minutes; I'm...er...a bit tired!" A smug, satisfied, smile spread gently across his lips; sliding lower against the arm of the sofa, he rubbed his feet against Jackson's leg. Returning his smile, Jackson pushed his trainers off, swung his legs round and began to meet Aaron's feet with his own; twinning their legs together, rubbing against each other.

Jackson glanced over at Hazel, still busy in the kitchen; the back of the sofa hid them from view, mostly hid them from view – he hoped. He slid lower; now his toes could reach Aaron's groin, gently teasing; now Aaron could reach him, he eased his hips forward, just for a moment, just for that extra pressure through his jeans. Jackson looked at Aaron's face; his teeth were caught over his bottom lip in concentration, in pleasure; he rubbed a little harder – oh definitely in pleasure!

A cupboard door closed solidly, firmly in the kitchen.

"I said to myself, I said, Hazel, I don't usually do subtle, but maybe this is the time for subtlety; that was the cupboard door being shut. Subtly. Reminding other people in the room, who are definitely not being subtle, that they are not alone!"

Behind the sofa, Jackson and Aaron slid, lower, grinning at each other, stifling sudden giggles.

...

Aaron had to admit, the onion gravy was worth waiting for, even though his cheeks had shone, momentarily scarlet, as he left the security of the sofa, where he had eventually managed a few minutes doze, to face Hazel at the table, to face her amused, raised eyebrow, to face her smiling at him.

They had hardly finished eating when there was a knock at the door, shadows visible behind the frosted glass. Jackson, nearest, moved to open it.

Two tall police officers came into the room, filling it with their presence.

"Mr Livesy? Mr Walsh?" He nodded as they acknowledged his enquiry, sitting at Hazel's invitation. "Sergeant Grant, Constable Sutherland. How are you both doing?"

Even as he was replying, assuring the officers that they were ok, that they were improving, Jackson wondered what this visit was about, what could have happened. An uncomfortable cold tingle of anticipation, of dread, crept across the back of his neck.

"Our colleagues just wanted us to call on you in person, to let you know they have made more arrests."

"How many?" asked Jackson quietly.

"They believe they have all your assailants in custody. They will appear at the Sherriff Court tomorrow; we expect they will be remanded in custody until they come to trial later in the year."

"Do we need to be there?" questioned Jackson.

"Not tomorrow, no; that's more a formality before the Sherriff. When it comes to trial; well, if they plead guilty you probably won't have to take the stand, but you will probably need to be in the country, available. It is a bit early to say for sure yet."

"'Scuse me!" Until then, Aaron had been very quiet; shock at the sudden reminder of the assault had driven him silence, the contrast with the giggles before dinner found no balance in his mind. He had to move now, quickly! He had to leave the room before the overwhelming nausea shamed him; he fled upstairs, he fled to the bathroom.

"I'll go," said Hazel, as Jackson made to follow him. "You stay and talk to the officers."

"We just need to confirm details of your home address, make sure we can contact you later. I hope the lad's ok," he nodded to Hazel as she headed for the stairs, following Aaron.

She found him; his wracked, ragged breathing, his sobs, shaking his body as he knelt on the floor, his hands clutching at the white toilet basin, head bowed, sudden exhaustion gripping him, waiting for the nausea to subside. He knew it wasn't Jackson behind him, but the touch on his shoulder, the arms he melted into, were comforting, safe, mothering.

There wasn't anything she could say that would make it better; there wasn't anything that would take the distress, the memories, away. Her small gift of brief comfort seemed little enough as she felt his body calming, steadying. When he was ready, she left him; left him splashing cold water on his face, seeking composure.

The police were gone by the time he came downstairs. Jackson moved to him; forgetting for a moment, that Hazel was even there, he pulled him to him, hugged him, felt his arms slid round his waist, hugging him back.

"You ok?" Jackson whispered.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm so sorry...what a waste."

"Ssh, it's fine, don't worry."

Jackson pulled him gently to the sofa, let him sit, watched him put his hands to his face, rubbing his fingers across his face, his eyes; steepling his fingers at his lips.

"It will get better, I promise. Just needs more time." Jackson caught his eye as he spoke, silently urging him to find strength within him, from himself, urging him to believe.

"Today was such a good day," said Aaron, a watery smile touching his lips.

"It was, wasn't it," Jackson returned his smile. "And there'll be more; the best is yet to come."

...

Some hours later, sleep was eluding him; beside him, Jackson lay curled towards him, his uppermost arm flung, abandoned, across Aaron's naked hips. Aaron lay listening to his steady, rhythmical breathing, trying to empty his racing mind, trying to forget the world.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

The rain was pouring, torrential, whipped sideways by the wind; thick black clouds blanketed the sky, lowering it oppressively. Hazel trudged down the tow path, wishing she had driven Jackson's van the short distance back to the B & B last night. She needed to talk to Jackson; she'd been thinking about it all night, brooding, worrying; wondering how she was going catch him alone. After last night, she didn't want to talk in front of Aaron, not yet, not with what she had to say.

Opening the chalet door, she coo-ee'd hello and went directly to the kettle, shaking it to check there was water in it before switching it on. She heard feet moving in the room above, feet coming down the stairs, Jackson's feet; she knew Aaron didn't move in the same way, not now. She took three mugs from the cupboard, spooning coffee into two of them.

"Morning mum!" Jackson appeared in the kitchen. Hazel looked at him, looking for hints, clues, looking for signs of stress in his expressive brown eyes as she poured hot water into the mugs.

"Morning love!" she handed him a mug. "How is he?" she asked, nodding in the direction of the stairs.

"Sleeping just now, don't think he had a good night."

"Umm..." Hazel took a sip of her coffee, searching for the words she needed. "Jackson...how's he going to be about going home, going back to Emmerdale? Seeing Chas?"

Jackson sighed. "I don't know, mum...honestly. He bottles so much up...I don't think he can understand why she hasn't been in touch, called him; come up, even. But he's not said anything to me."

"But he knows we have to leave here the day after tomorrow, doesn't he? And what about driving home? He's not fit enough to share it with you!"

"I dunno mum!" Jackson felt the rising tide of anxiety, panic begin to trickle into his body. "I'll speak to him, makes sure he knows, understands. And I'll manage the driving."

"It's been a holiday, love; every holiday has to end."

"I know. I know mum. But not everyone gets beaten up on their holidays; it's not as if he'll be going back to work yet anyway, so there is no hurry."

"But you have to get back, Jackson; you had work booked in before you went away. And it might not be making it any easier for him, staying away longer. Sometimes the right thing to do is the hardest thing." Hazel looked at her son, wondering if she was doing the right thing, pushing him, making him realise they had to go home, soon.

"You wanting the van today?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Err...no...no, I don't think so. Why?"

"I want to go to town, get my train ticket organised; you don't think I am going to play gooseberry in that rickety van all the way back do you?" she exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood.

"No...well...I hadn't really thought. Thanks"

"Oh no need to thank me, love. If you had a 2010 plate luxury camper van there'd be no getting rid of me!" She put her cup in the sink, lifted the keys from the table. Moving across the room, close to him, she rested her hand on his arm, rubbing gently, reassuringly. "You're strong enough for him, son. I know you are."

Jackson watched her go; he knew she was right; he needed to talk to Aaron.

...

Hazel drove a few miles down the road before pulling into a lay by. Her mobile phone was on the dashboard; flipping it open, she checked it for signal before beginning to scroll through the menu, looking for the number she wanted; it was near the end.

"Paddy! When did you last speak to him?"

"Well it must have been after that then; he was in bits last night, Paddy, just bits. It was...heartbreaking...there's no other word for it. The police called...no...to the chalet. They've got them all; they're in court this morning, hoping they'll be remanded in custody till it comes to trial."

"No, not today, but they have to be available at the trial, though if they plead guilty, they won't have to give evidence...yes, much better."

"No, he was still asleep, I just spoke to Jackson; reminded him that they need to think about going home...oh good lord no! I'm away to get my train ticket now. But Jackson seems to think that Chas is a big part of the problem. What the hell is that woman doing?"

"Yes! Well! She needs to think about her son, not herself! No Paddy! You know and I know that he's not...that not very far under that hard mask is a very scared lad, who would like his mum to be just that, his mum!"

"Right...ok...I'll let you get back; but maybe don't leave it too late to phone him. Just remember you know nothing about the police last night. Ok, talk soon."

Sighing, Hazel clicked her phone closed.

...

Jackson sat on the sofa nursing his second cup of coffee. He knew his mum was right; he was going to have to make sure Aaron knew they were heading home in two days time. Forty eight hours. To Emmerdale. To Chas.

There was still no sound from upstairs; he'd let him sleep, procrastination was good. Idly he switched on the television, turned the volume right down and channel hopped, seeing nothing, distracted by everything. He moved, stretched full length on the sofa, drugged by daytime television, he slept.

"Jackson! Coffee!"

He heard a mug bumping down on to the table; felt his legs lifted, raised as Aaron sat, then lowered on to his lap, felt hands slowly, absently rubbed up and down his shin, straying further, fingers sliding up his thigh.

"Hazel was here." Flat, a statement not a question, but still his hand kept up its movements, distracted, forgotten.

"Yes."

"I heard her, heard a bit of the conversation, not all, was gonna come down, but must have dozed off again."

"Oh." Jackson wasn't sure what to say, wasn't sure how much Aaron had heard. Had he heard them speaking about his mum; about Chas.

"I'm sorry Jackson. I feel so selfish, so wrapped up in not wanting to go home; I just didn't give a thought to you having work piling up." He looked at Jackson now, his blue eyes full of contrition, brimming full of regret.

"Hey! it's ok! I'll just put stuff off a day or two. I wouldn't have done anything straight away...straight after, even if we had gone home earlier. A couple more days won't matter."

"And she's getting the train?" questioned Aaron, wanting confirmation although he had heard, he thought he had heard.

"Yeah, she's off getting her ticket," Jackson smiled at Aaron, churning inside; he could feel his guts turning, tumbling over, clenching in anticipation, in fear. He knew he should, but he couldn't, he couldn't intrude that much, even on Aaron. He gave into cowardice; he couldn't ask about Chas.

"But we'll get another night in the van, break the journey," Jackson smiled at Aaron, hopefully, encouragingly; distracting his own thoughts from what he had not been able to do.

"Hadn't thought of that," Aaron returned his smile. "I'll make sure I keep a few painkillers, before and after! No, I'm joking!" Quickly reassuring, he sought to allay Jackson's fears as he saw the concern flood on to his face. "I'll be fine; and besides, I'll hardly notice a few new aches and pains!"

Breaking into the moment, a tune rang out; Aaron reached his mobile on the table, he knew who it was, even before looking at the name on the screen.

...

"Aaron, it's me, Paddy...yes, I know you saw my name on the screen...but...but...how are you?"

Now he heard his voice, heard his usual irritation, Paddy wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't that long since he had spoken to Hazel; thirty, forty minutes; thirty, forty minutes pacing about the surgery; was it too soon to phone, should he leave it longer? Rhona had chased him from the surgery and Pearl had gone for chocolate biscuits; he always worried when Pearl brought out the chocolate biscuits.

"Fine! That tells me a lot!" He had to remember he didn't know; it was hard, he just wanted to blurt it out, ask about last night, about the police, about his tears. But he couldn't. He could hear voices in the background, could hear Jackson saying something, muffled, mumbled; he strained to catch the words.

Suddenly it was Jackson speaking to him, telling him what he already knew, although he supposed Jackson didn't know that he knew. But hearing it again; hearing it when he couldn't put his arms round Aaron and hug him, was hard, so very hard.

"Take care of him, Jackson; tell him I love him. Tell him I know he doesn't want to come home, but I'm looking forward to seeing him." He couldn't mention Chas to Jackson; it wouldn't be fair, it might be hard for him to reply. It would have to wait. Damn Chas.

Suddenly Aaron was back on the phone, apologising, quietly, just a few words.

"It's ok Aaron, you're fine. Jackson told me, don't worry. Aaron, I love you."

The phone clicked into silence. At least he had come back on the line; at least he had told him that he loved him. He trusted Jackson; he had to trust Jackson, but god! he wanted them home.

...

The phone clicked into silence in Aaron's hand.

"I'm sorry. Thanks for speaking to him. I just couldn't face telling him about yesterday."

"It's fine babes, come here." Jackson pulled Aaron towards him, hugging him, sharing his strength with him.

"I'm sorry," said Aaron again, as they eventually eased apart, just a little.

"Hey! Stop apologising! We've still got a couple of days, what do you want to do today?"

"No idea, not in this rain."

"D'you know what I'd like to do?" suddenly Jackson felt awkward, shy almost, as Aaron looked questioningly at him.

"I'd like to draw you again. Properly. Bare naked."


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Jackson drew the curtains, just a little, just enough to shut out some of the bleak weather, just enough to create shadows. He turned to the fireplace, filled with a real flame fake affair; they hadn't needed it in previous days, the weather had been too good, but today, hibernating from the torrential rain, it was about creating atmosphere as well as for warmth, for cosiness. He watched the flames dancing, drawing him into their movement, their colour, their world, for a moment.

Aaron stood in the kitchen, leaning up against the cupboards, watching Jackson, watching the care he was taking for him; the curtains, the fire, a downie on the sofa. A smile touched his lips, he felt a tingle of apprehension playing in his stomach; he wondered what story Jackson was running in his head as he made his preparations

Jackson looked over at him and smiled.

"You sure you're ok with this?" he asked.

"Course!" he said, a hint of bravado clinging to his words. "What d'you want me to do?"

"Come over here."

Jackson watched Aaron, watched every step as he walked from the kitchen, to where he stood in front of the sofa, in front of the warming flames. As he came close, closer, Jackson moved towards him, closing the gap between them, taking Aaron in his arms, capturing his blue eyes with his own, dark chocolate brown eyes, darker than ever, with desire, with excitement, with lust. He could feel Aaron's body pressed up against his own; he moved his leg a little, easing his thigh between Aaron's legs. His hands cupped Aaron's face, drawing it towards him, finding his lips with his own.

Kissing him, kissing him gently at first, tasting his lips, letting his tongue begin to tease, to play, to find Aaron's tongue, dance with it. Deeper, deeper now, hungrily, devouring each other, feeling their arousal flowering, growing, spreading throughout their bodies; overwhelming.

Jackson broke the kiss, pulling away, still holding Aaron's eyes with his own, letting his hands run down his body, his fingers found the tie on his trackkies, loosening, he slid his hands inside the material, finding skin, fighting the tingle of electric desire that ran through his own body, he began to ease the trousers down, down, down.

"I'm not gonna fuck you just now; I'm not gonna take you in my mouth and suck you off either," he whispered as Aaron, intent on his words, stepped out of his trackkies. "But I want to see it in your face, your eyes; desire."

"Shite Jay! Get me all turned on, why don't you!" Aaron groaned as he spoke, dropping down onto the sofa, discarding his tee shirt. "How do you want me?

"Lie on your front with..."

"What! After all that you don't want this?" Aaron nodded downwards at his swollen cock.

"Sometimes less is more, babes; and this is one of those times; trust me, I'm an artist!"

"You're a bloody builder and I'm flipping mad!" Aaron grumbled cheerfully, stretching full length on the sofa. "I hope the doors are locked."

"Yeah, relax! Put your arms on the cushion...now rest your head on your arms..." he stood back, assessing, admiring Aaron's nakedness as he followed his instructions. "Drop your elbow over the edge of the sofa a little...now raise your feet up...cross them...is that ok for you?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

Jackson sank into one of the large armchairs, turning so his legs were over the arm, a rest for the pad of paper. He stared at the blank sheet of paper; he hated this, confronting the empty page, daunting, terrifying; he might see the picture in his mind's eye but it was another matter committing that image to paper. What was it his mother said? Imagine a margin, a bit of the paper you weren't going to use and scribble something in it; then the page was no longer blank, no longer a blank page of terror. He imagined a margin, quickly scribbling a sun, a moon, two stars.

Another line on the page, he had started; quickly the faintest outline appeared, barely recognisable as a man, as Aaron. His eyes flicked between the paper and his lover; his model.

Aaron closed his eyes at first; his body was lying peacefully, relaxed; his body was rushing excitement, thwarted excitement. Hardly moving, he pushed his hips into the sofa beneath him, harder, seeking relief, holding his breath, just for a second. Was that any easier? He wasn't sure; his breathing was steadier now though, his breathing was everything now, concentration flooding through him, taking him to the place Jackson needed him to be. He opened his eyes, he looked at Jackson; he opened his eyes, he didn't see Jackson.

Jackson knew the lines were working for him; merging, coalescing, beginning to live of their own free will; he didn't think he had very much to do with the magic happening in front of him; the magic appearing on the paper in front of him. He was doing nothing, he was looking at Aaron; they was doing everything together.

Time passed, time stood still; Aaron let himself drift, thinking of nothing, thinking of everything.

...

Awareness returning, reality creeping back, rushing back.

"Jay. Sorry. I need to move a minute." Aaron dropped his legs, stretching, pushing his feet towards the end of the sofa; he couldn't stop a slight groan escaping, a sighing, breathy groan escaping from between his lips.

Jackson moved, dropping his pad of paper, his pencil; moving to the sofa, he straddled Aaron's legs, sitting across his thighs. Beneath him, he could feel him moving, arching his back, easing the ache of stillness. Letting his eyes feast on every sculptured line, every outlined muscle of his back, letting his fingers travel those lines, feel those muscles, gently; gently at first, a little pressure then, feeling, exploring the knots of tension, undoing them with his fingers, caressing, then more firmly.

Lower, lower his fingers strayed, his hands pushing down, circling, caressing, rubbing the soft mounds of Aaron's buttocks, digging his fingers suddenly! sharply! into the tender flesh of his cheeks, feeling him gasp! hold his breath! breathe out; release.

"Jay, don't get me all...y'know...if we're not gonna...oh! shite Jay!"

"Don't worry babes; I'm hard for you, and I'm not gonna waste it this time." He lent forward until he was laying along Aaron's back, his lips planting tiny kisses between his shoulder blades, feeling him writhe delicately beneath him, knowing the sensation of his lips would be making his skin tingle, anticipation flooding through his body. He pushed his hips down, hard, grinding against Aaron's butt, felt a corresponding push, upwards, backwards, from him.

Moving, half sitting up, Jackson pulled his tee shirt over his head; he needed to be naked; moving again, he undid the button and zip of his jeans and skimmed them down, over his hips, legs; naked, he stretched again along the length of Aaron's body, skin to skin; hot, already gently sweating, skin to skin. He let his fingers wander up and down Aaron's flank; teasing the curve of his waist, the swell of his hip, knowing how sensitive he was...just there. He could feel Aaron under him, giving in to the sensations flooding his body; the sensations from his fingertips...running so gently.

He eased his own hips round a little, then, pushing with his foot, gently made Aaron spread his legs a little wider. Caressing his buttocks again, he let his fingers begin to tease; to trail into his crack, gently teasing, up and down, avoiding, for the moment, the starry little hole he could already see tensing and relaxing, inviting him, wanting him.

Still watching, Jackson slid his finger into his mouth, sliding it against his tongue, closing his lips around it...pulling it slowly free, glistening. Near Aaron's hole now; he could see it puckering in anticipation, he pressed his finger against it...and paused ...before entering.

"Oh Jay!" The words escaped with his breath. "Oh, that feels so good...don't stop..."

"I've no intention of stopping, babes: I've only just started."

"Oh god! I want you so much, Jay! I want you inside me, taking me! I want to feel...possessed! yours! Oh!"

Jackson pushed a second finger inside, pushed hard, feeling Aaron contract, spasm against the sudden intrusion, before accepting it, welcoming it.

"Lift your arse a little," he whispered, his free hand against his hips, guiding Aaron where he wanted him. Moving again, Jackson knelt close behind him, let his own rock hard cock slide round his fingers, up and down Aaron's crack, let his leaking juice spread over his arse, circling his thumb, bringing it closer to Aaron's hole. His fingers slid easily now, after one last, deep caress, he slid them out, his cock quickly taking their place, easing in, gently, gently at first, letting him adjust to the difference in size; then sliding, pushing, entering him completely. Possessing him. Possessing him until the moon and the stars exploded in the shared union of their bodies.

...

"You weren't smiling like that...stop it," groaned Jackson, looking between the paper and Aaron.

"Can't help it," said Aaron, his smile covering his face. "I feel like every cat that has ever got the cream," he paused, his tongue flicking onto his lips, "literally."

"We're not gonna get any more of this done, are we?" said Jackson, dropping the paper to the floor.

"Probably not," agreed Aaron cheerfully, rolling round onto his back, holding his hand out, inviting Jackson to join him on the sofa; catching his hand as he moved, pulling him roughly down on top of him. He kissed him, quickly, firmly on the lips, still tasting their mingled juices. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Nah," laughed Jackson. "I can finish it later. So what do you want to do?" He felt Aaron wriggle, teasingly, underneath him. "Jeez! You can be such an insatiable slut!"

"I know, but you love it!" Aaron's blue eyes sparked with mischief as he moved his hips, oh so suggestively, again. "What about the hot tub then?"

"It's raining!"

"So! We won't get any wetter!" Aaron raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"'That's true! Ok!" Jackson pushed himself up, rolling off Aaron, rolling off the sofa. Turning, he grabbed Aaron's hand, hauling him up. "Come on then, let's see how wet we can get!" Still holding Aaron's hand, he awkwardly unlocked the double doors leading to the secluded hot tub.

Skimming naked over the decking, the pelting rain stinging, stimulating, hitting every bit of their bodies, they rushed to jump into the tub, to leap over the side together in their urgency.

Thinking only of each other, of the warmth of the water contrasting with the stinging cold of the rain; they heard nothing.

"The door was locked, I...well!...the things you see when you haven't got a camera!"

Moons rose, splashed and disappeared.

"I said to myself, Hazel, I said, your timing always was perfect!" She smiled.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

"How about a wander down to the village? Lunch out? A pint?" Jackson looked over at Aaron as they wandered round the chalet, beginning to gather up their things, doing a last washing, all in preparation for their departure early the next morning, he knew Aaron was beginning to think, to brood, to worry about returning to Emmerdale.

"Yeah, if you like," Aaron replied half heartedly. He looked at Jackson; even from across the room he saw the sudden flash of pain cross his eyes at his response. "I'm sorry, Jackson. Yes, lunch out would be good." He smiled. He forced the smile to his lips; he didn't want Jackson to know how he felt, how much he was dreading leaving the chalet, their sanctuary.

Jackson sighed; really Aaron was absolutely crap at talking about his feelings, yet he, at least, could see them so clearly written on his face, in his eyes.

"You'll be alright walking?" he questioned. "Could pick the van up from mum's if you want."

"Nah, I'll be fine," he smiled again, meaning it, warming to the concern in Jackson's face. He knew it wasn't fair of him, allowing his glummish mood to show, to spoil the last proper day of their holiday. This time tomorrow they would be heading south, heading home; he just wanted to go as far as he could in the opposite direction.

After the torrential rain, the towpath was full of puddles, but at least the sky had a watery brightness to it, wispy clouds scattered amongst the washed out blue. There were two fishing boats going down through the flight of locks, and more people gathered watching them than they had seen before when they had ventured out, the throngs of visitors, peering over the edge of the brickwork, watching the sudden swirling, bubbling water as the sluices were opened to let water flood into the chamber below, lowering the boats.

Aaron and Jackson wandered, just a little bit back from the people intent on watching the boats, down the steps that lined the canal. There was a pub on the opposite side with tables on the canalside; the closed lock gates provided a bridge, they crossed and sat at the only empty table. Menus were secured to the table by long, thin chains, scrutinising the choices, for a moment or two they were absorbed in temptation.

"I'm going for the chicken," said Aaron eventually, "what are you wanting? I'll go in and order"

"Macaroni cheese, I think," said Jackson, still looking at the menu. "Yeah, the macaroni please."

He watched Aaron's back, admiring his arse, as he crossed the grassy bank, the lane and went into the pub. Watching the door, waiting for him to emerge again, unable to stop himself smiling when he did so, watching him carefully carrying two brimming pints of lager.

"Sorry for being such a miserable git this morning," Aaron said, setting the pints on the table. He had seen Jackson's smile as he came back with their drinks; it was the smile that made his stomach flip, that made his heart sing every time he saw it, every time he knew it was for him. He took a long, needy slurp of his lager before speaking, before doing something he hated, before sharing, just a little

"I'm dreading it, Jackson. Going back." He looked down into the amber liquid, unable, at that moment, to meet Jackson's eyes, fearing what he might see, fearing that he might see Jackson's desire to be away, to be home.

"I know you are," Jackson whispered quietly, amazed that Aaron had said even that much. "But it will be fine."

"Even with everything...everything that's happened...it's been good, being away with you." He still couldn't look up, couldn't meet Jackson's eyes

"It will be good when we get home too; we'll still be together," Jackson wondered if anything he could say would help Aaron feel more positive. "If you still want me, that is?" he added provocatively.

Aaron head snapped up then.

"Of course I still want you! Don't even joke about it!

"Then we'll cope with home; together. Deal?"

"Deal."

Aaron smiled then; he knew he hadn't said all that was on his mind; he couldn't share that with Jackson, not yet. But he suspected that Jackson had an idea what was bothering him. Under the table, he pushed his leg against Jackson's; a gesture of gratitude, a gesture of something more.

...

After their meal, they walked down the rest of the canal, hardly speaking, but mirroring each other's footsteps by instinct. They went into one or two shops, gaudy tartans, designed to lure the visitors in, to part with their money, on display everywhere. In one, slightly larger shop, Jackson lost Aaron for a few minutes and was surprised when he reappeared at his side, carrying a large carrier bag. He raised an eyebrow, questioningly.

"Just a couple of bits for Noah and Belle, and a hat for Paddy," he opened the bag, reaching in, tweaked a lump of garish red tartan, shook it, revealing the hat and its fringing of orange fluff.

"He'll love it!" smiled Jackson. "Never wear it, but love it!"

"I've got him something else too, something proper," said Aaron quickly. "And a couple of fridge magnets...I thought Pearl..."

"Aww, you're just a big softie really, aren't you," replied Jackson, his teasing tone hiding his surprise at Aaron's thoughtfulness.

"Oh shut it!" exclaimed Aaron, quickly leaving the shop in front of Jackson, leaving before he could see the flush of colour staining his cheeks at his words.

"Right then," said Jackson, chasing outside after him, "back to the chalet or boat trip?" Skimming round in front of him, walking backwards a step or two, Jackson held his two clenched fists to his chin. "Boat trip, boat trip, boat trip, pleeease," he chanted quietly, his eyes sparkling.

Looking at him, his open, eager face, his chocolate brown eyes looking larger, more puppyish than ever, Aaron felt his heart lift, knew he could refuse him nothing, especially a boat trip.

"C'mon then, but I warn you, if it's anything but flat calm, I'll be throwing up all over you!"

...

It wasn't flat calm, but not so far off it that Aaron felt any ill effects; besides he was entertained for the hours sail on the loch by watching Jackson's enthusiastic enjoyment, all thoughts of queasiness banished. They stood together at the railings, close together, pushed closer together by jostling tourists either side of them, watching the far shore of the loch come closer, watching the village, the two entrances, canal and river, disappear into the distance; listening to the tinny voice of the commentary pointing out things to see, to notice. The boat was busy with happy tourists, pushing and jostling to get the best view, the best photograph; no one took any notice of them. Staring resolutely ahead, his hands gripping tightly to the railing, Aaron eased one hand a fraction nearer to Jackson, and again; splaying his fingers, his little finger could almost reach Jackson's finger, his littlest finger. Moving again, a final fraction, letting his own little finger stretch, reach, Aaron touched Jackson, caught his attention, smiled into his eyes; melted.

...

The last evening, the last few hours; Aaron just wanted it over, wanted to wave a magic wand, wanted the journey to be over, wanted the return home to be over, even wanted the holiday to be a distant memory; the pain of its ending just a niggling ache, not raw, overwhelming. And there was something else; he should have shared with Jackson straight away, earlier that afternoon, before the boat trip, before his courage failed him; but the moment hadn't been right; and now, had he missed the right moment?

The last evening, it had been pleasant enough; Hazel had been and gone, he and Jackson had curled together on the sofa, watched something on the television, he couldn't have said what; he had watched the colours, the moving images, heard the words, but his mind, all his thoughts had been elsewhere. Not far away, upstairs, remembering what he had hidden there, burning into his consciousness.

The last evening, it had to be drawing to an end, time was running out; Jackson was moving, making those going to bed moves that Aaron recognised, knew so well, usually welcomed.

"You coming or will I get you upstairs?" Jackson asked him.

"I'll come up too," he replied, his stomach churning, it was now, as soon as they got upstairs or the moment would be lost.

He left Jackson to go into the bathroom, heard him scrubbing his teeth, knew he was safe for a minute or two. He paced the floor, trying to work out what he would say, what his first words should be.

"What's up with you this evening?" Jackson was standing quietly at the bathroom door, leaning against the door frame, watching him, watching his anxiety now so clearly, suddenly, visible after bubbling below the surface for hours. "You've been fidgety all evening."

Aaron couldn't answer; he grabbed the jacket he had been wearing earlier in the day, felt what he was looking for through the material, found the pocket and took the small paper package from it, held it in his hand. He could feel the colour beginning to burn in his cheeks, was glad the only light was coming from the bathroom, from behind Jackson, that he was in shadow.

"I got you something, this afternoon, when we were out." He held out the small parcel towards Jackson, his hand trembling a little, his stomach churning. Surely Jackson must be able to see the turmoil he had created within himself.

Moving, Jackson came towards him, drew him down onto the bed beside him.

"Is this why you've been twitchy all evening – or wasn't I supposed to notice? Because you bought me a present?" Jackson took the small parcel from him, pushing his shoulder gently against Aaron, then turning, letting his fingers move to his chin, raising his face to look him in the eye. He slowly began to unwrap the present, even before he saw it, he couldn't keep a smile from spreading from his lips, reaching his eyes, his heart.

"If you don't like it…" began Aaron.

"Shut up, Aaron, it's perfect." On the unwrapped paper on his hand, a long leather thong curled around a small, flattened circle of amber; even in the shadows, the warm orange glow shone in his hand. Taking it from the paper, shaking out the leather thong, Jackson turned his back to Aaron, placed the amber circle at his neck and held the two loose ends over his shoulders for Aaron to tie.

Once it was secured about his neck he turned back to Aaron, his fingers touching the hard circle, feeling the novelty, the strangeness of it. He leant in towards him, hugged him quickly.

Without speaking, Jackson reached into his pocket, pulled out a parcel, a parcel of the same paper that Aaron had given him, moments before.

"Great minds," he smiled. "I was going to give you this tomorrow; it's not a necklace though. Hope it fits."

Urgently Aaron ripped open the paper, his heart pounding, with excitement, with relief. Inside was a leather – leather again – bangle, dark leather, covered with an intricate design. Slipping it round his wrist, whispering his thanks, his voice suddenly deserting him, Aaron held out his hand to Jackson; he could have fastened it himself but he wanted the pleasure of letting Jackson do it for him.

Suddenly he was smiling, a smile that reached every part of him, letting him feel wonderful, soaring amongst the clouds. Leaning backwards, he pulled Jackson on top on him on the bed, hugged him, searched for his lips, found his lips, kissed him, was kissed in return, gently at first, but quickly harder, deeper, with desire, with celebration.

The last evening lasted a little bit longer. The last evening lasted a lot longer.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Dawn came too early.

The alarm on his phone, tucked under his pillow, woke Jackson, he stirred, stretched, remembered. Aaron slept on, undisturbed by the quiet noise. Jackson had set it deliberately early, he wanted to get as much into the van before Aaron woke, wanted to help, wanted to hide his distress. He slid from the bed, pulling on his tee shirt and boxers before creeping down stairs, needing coffee.

Even though it was early, it was almost full daylight; their bags were ready by the door, ready to go. He took his coffee to the double doors that led out to the decking, opening it, stood and listened to the silent morning. His hand strayed to his neck, to the new leather necklace, his fingers caressed the small ring, the circle of amber, he smiled...remembering, as a warm glow that had nothing to do with the weather spread through his body.

He loaded the van, there really wasn't that much to put in, but even so, without their clutter scattered, the chalet looked forlorn, heartless; something was missing, they were already missing.

He took coffee up to Aaron, and a second mug for himself, leaving it to cool as he showered quickly and dressed. Aaron was sitting up, nursing his mug, as Jackson returned from the bathroom, sat on the bed beside him, put his arm round his shoulder, drew him towards himself, into him.

He touched the bracelet he had fasted round Aaron's wrist the night before, ran his fingers softly over the leather, still hard and shiny with newness.

"It's a circle," he whispered. He moved his hand to his own circle of amber, touching it. "We both picked circles for each other; there is no ending to circles, Aaron. Today is only another curve of the circle." He looked at Aaron, looked at the tear logged blue eyes, trying to smile, trying to be brave.

Aaron took a deep, quavering breath; he was so close to tears – again – and he really didn't want to cry – again. Quickly leaning forward, kissing Jackson briefly, he escaped to the bathroom. He felt...raw...he needed a moment, a moment without Jackson, a moment when he wasn't beside him, being nice to him. He closed the door behind him, leaning against it, for a second he held his hands against his face, his fingers pushing into his eyes, stopping the tears from falling. Breathe, breathe deeply, he couldn't stop the day.

...

Neither of them looked back as the van rumbled slowly up the lane for the last time, going the short distance before stopping to pick up Hazel for the journey to the station. For the quiet journey to the station.

She had managed a few words with Jackson as he collected her bag; it was hardly a conversation, more a list of instructions; to take care, to take plenty of breaks, to keep his phone on, to text her frequently, to text Paddy, to look after Aaron – it was lovely by the way, the necklace.

But travelling the road to the station, no one spoke.

Hazel had wanted them just to drop her then leave, letting her wave them off, but Jackson insisted on staying until the train pulled out of the station, until the train disappeared around a curve in the line, disappeared south.

"Breakfast," he said to Aaron, nodding towards the station cafe, walking towards the door without waiting for an answer, knowing that Aaron would follow him if he moved decisively, knowing that Aaron would say he wasn't hungry if he gave him a choice. Sliding behind a table, he ordered two full fry-ups with extra toast and large coffees.

Aaron didn't want a fry-up, didn't want toast, when it felt like the world was ending. Ok, he knew that was overly dramatic, but if he didn't feel the drama in his head he might let bitter sadness spill from his lips, and Jackson didn't deserve that; it wasn't his fault today had come; it was inevitable and he couldn't fight it.

The plates that were put in front of them a few minutes later were tempting though; watching Jackson tucking in, Aaron tasted a mouthful, expecting rebellion from his stomach, suddenly he realised he was hungry, really, really hungry; and the fry-up was wonderful.

Watching him, Jackson saw the transition, saw him begin to relish the food, knew his decision had been a good one.

"Just don't do your food porn thing now," he teased, "it's far too early in the morning!"

"Spoil sport!" returned Aaron, starting on the toast. "How come you are always right anyway?"

"Right? About what?"

"This. Breakfast. Everything?"

"Ah, well, that is because I am one awesomely clever man. And you are not!" said Jackson, teasingly smug.

"But I'm very good between the sheets, or in the hot tub, or wherever you want me!"

"Mmmm, not really sure about that. I think I might need to try you again, just to make sure."

Aaron smiled at his lover; in stark contrast to such a short time before, his heart felt lighter, his mood was brighter, he didn't know how Jackson had managed it, how so often he could reach him through the dark mist of his thoughts, lift his mood, reach the very soul of him, but he was so glad he could.

...

Jackson was relieved the detour taking Hazel to the station meant their drive south was on a different road from the one they had taken on their leisurely trip north, he didn't think he could have borne to watch Aaron, watching the road they had taken...before...remembering. There would have been no escape from the memories for either of them, but he knew he was stronger than Aaron; at least this was a new road, a blank page.

The road ate up the miles, always south, always nearer the motorway when the miles would pass faster than even, always nearer Emmerdale. Aaron watched the miles counting down on the road side signs, watched their progress on the map held open on his lap, watched them move from page to page; always south.

"Let me drive for a bit," Aaron said as they sat in a cafe just off the main road, drinking coffee, "before we get on to the motorway."

"I dunno," hesitated Jackson.

"Just a little way," urged Aaron. "I'll stop straight away if I get too sore or anything. Please Jackson."

Jackson looked at him, at the hope reflected in his eyes, he knew how important this was to him, even before...before he had enjoyed sharing the driving.

"Ok, just for a few miles, but if you feel at all uncomfortable, we'll swap back."

It was better driving, Aaron thought a short while later, some miles down the main road. There was nothing to think of but the cars around him, the road in front of him; he didn't need to worry about where they were going, just getting there safely. He knew Jackson was watching him, waiting for the first sign, any sign of pain or discomfort, waiting to confine him to the passenger seat again, condemn him to his own awkward, painful thoughts. He could ignore the ache reaching into his back, for a few more miles, at least until Jackson warned him the motorway was just a dozen miles or so ahead; they needed to swap back before then, before it became too difficult to swap easily on the motorway.

Suddenly Aaron realised he was seeing road signs with English names on them. It wasn't even lunchtime, yet the border was rushing towards them; how could this be happening when they had taken days ambling north. Suddenly he hated motorways. But it was in his head now, every mile was bringing them closer, bringing the inevitable closer; they had talked about having another night, a last night in the van, but they seemed so close, it seemed so false. But how could he say that to Jackson?

By mid afternoon they had crossed the border, just a harsh sign on a motorway flashing by in an instant, no view, no photograph.

Another motorway service station, another tasteless coffee.

"Maybe we should just get home tonight." There! He had said them; the words were hanging in the air between them, laughing at him, taunting him. Aaron waited for Jackson's reaction.

"I thought we were going to have a night in the van?" questioned Jackson quietly.

"I think it would just be hanging over us too much, it would spoil it too much," replied Aaron quietly.

"If you are sure," said Jackson, looking at him, trying to read his expression, looking into his eyes, trying to read his thoughts.

"I just want it over with now," Aaron didn't know if that was explanation enough, even for himself, but it was all of an explanation he could find.

"So long as you're sure."

...

It was dark as they pulled up outside Smithy; Aaron was glad, he didn't think he could face anyone other than Paddy just now. They had stopped more frequently during the last bit of the journey and he had spelled Jackson a couple more times, but they were both tired.

Hardly had the van's engine died but the cottage door was flung wide leaving Paddy silhouetted in the light of the open door. Almost before Aaron realised, he was beside the van, opening the door, pulling him into his arms, hugging him, hardly letting him slide from the seat to the ground before hugging the very breath from him.

"You'll be exhausted...we got your text...I only picked Hazel up from the station a couple of hours ago...she's getting the kettle on" in his excitement Paddy jumped from one thought to another. Pushing Aaron from him then, Paddy held him at arm's length, looked at him, looked into his tired eyes, loved him.

Aaron dropped exhausted onto the familiar, comfortable sofa, Jackson beside him, his eyes already closing.

"Aaron! No!" exclaimed Paddy as he saw tiredness beginning to claim both of them. "You need to go upstairs – now – before you do anything else."

"Do one Paddy!" grumbled Aaron, slumping lower on the sofa.

"No, he's right, love, said Hazel, emerging from the kitchen with coffee for them all. "You need to go now – both of you," she added.

Grudgingly they dragged themselves up the stairs, to Aaron's bedroom, to their bedroom, pushing open the door, putting the light on.

Suddenly all thoughts of tiredness was banished, disbelief, surprise, delight, amazement jostled for dominance. There wasn't much space left in the room, but that didn't matter. Filling the room was a double bed, midnight blue covers welcoming them.

And on the bed, a card; "To Aaron and Jackson, with love, from Paddy and Hazel"


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Daylight filtered through the curtained windows; Aaron kept his eyes shut, he really, really didn't want to wake up yet. Whatever time it was; it was too early to face the day. He moved, became aware of Jackson beside him, moved to snuggle into his arms.

"D'you want coffee? It's after ten." Jackson asked him quietly, rolling out of his reach, out of the bed

"No." Aaron didn't open his eyes. "I'm in denial! I want to stay in this bed all day, in our own private bubble and pretend we're still on holiday." He opened one eye and peeked up at Jackson. "Yeah, I have coffee if you'll bring it upstairs; grab a few more minutes here."

"So long as it's only coffee you've got on your mind; you were pretty enthusiastic last night." he said, remembering.

Aaron rolled onto his back, stretched, rested his hands behind his head; he smiled.

"And stop trying to tempt me back to bed; I'm going for a shower then I'll make the coffee." He wrapped a towel round his waist and slipped from the room.

"So what have you got to do today?" Aaron asked a few minutes later, sitting up in bed, drinking his coffee.

"I need to go and see Declan, there were bits he still wanted me to do at the house; see if he can wait till next week." Jackson took a mouthful of coffee. "Paddy's made you an appointment at the GPs this afternoon."

"He's what!" exclaimed Aaron. "Well he can just do one, I'm not going!" He scowled crossly at Jackson.

"The hospital said you had to see the GP when we got home," Jackson replied stubbornly.

"Well what about you! You were hurt; you've got letters to hand in."

"Yeah. And he made me one ten minutes after you,"

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. So no more moaning," Jackson smirked. "The Woollie at one then?"

"Yeah, s'pose so."

"No, s'pose about it, be there," Jackson smiled, a teasing, pleading smile, watched acceptance, affirmation play across Aaron's face as he slid back under the covers...alone.

...

Jackson quietly closed the door to Smithy; he hadn't seen Paddy on his way out and heaven knows where his mother was; no doubt they would catch up later. He walked down the street towards Declan's house; he didn't know if he would be there at this time of day; he probably should have phoned first.

Lost in his thoughts, he was shocked to hear his name being called, hear the sharp aggressive tones greeting him as he turned the corner by the house; apprehensive to see Cain coming towards him, swaggering, combative.

"I told you to phone me if there were any problems," he growled at Jackson, his face, upper body, held towards him, invading his space.

Jackson stood his ground, held his eyes.

"I needed... my mum," he said quietly.

"I could've helped," asserted Cain.

"What could you have done, Cain? The police had two people in custody by the next day and the rest a few days later," his voice was quiet, reflective, sad even.

Cain grunted non-committally. "How's Aaron?

Jackson stared at him a moment, considering his answer. "Fragile. Why didn't Chas come up to see him?"

"She was waiting to hear from him," defensive suddenly, Cain hadn't expected Jackson to ask so directly. "When she didn't," he shrugged, "well Paddy kept her up to date."

"She his mother!" suddenly furious, the anger blazed in Jackson's eyes. "She should know, _know!_ that what he says – or doesn't say - has nothing to do with what he wants or feels or needs! She should have been there, Cain. For her son!"

Turning on his heels, he stormed away. He could feel himself shaking, feel the sudden release of anger chasing through his body, feel frustration and pain on Aaron's behalf, on his lover's behalf. He didn't know where he was going, where he was walking; anywhere, anywhere to get away from Cain, from all thoughts of Chas, from all the useless Dingles. He let his feet lead him, unheeding, quickly at first, needing the distance, as though the very air around him was polluted.

As the mist of anger cleared from his mind, he realised he was near the cricket pavilion. Slower now, catching his breath, catching his thoughts, he walked to the slightly dilapidated building and flung himself onto a bench on the balcony. He didn't want to go back to Smithy, not when he was in this mood, no good for him, no good for Aaron. He hated, hated! that they could make him feel this way; how could they not see what Aaron was like, what he needed! He lent back against the wooden wall, closed his eyes, tried to force himself to think of something else, anything else, anything but people...families.

As he felt calmer, he took his phone from his pocket; there were no messages, no missed calls. He scrolled through the numbers, reaching Declan's, punched the dial button. A minute later, an arrangement had been made; he only had to walk back to the café in thirty minutes time. For now, he could sit and brood a little longer.

...

Aaron lay in their new bed, relishing the space, regretting the emptiness; he knew Jackson had to organise his work, reschedule plans, dates, and he was secretly proud of him for loving his work so much. He just wished he hadn't been so keen to go to the Woollie; they could have just had lunch at home and he wouldn't have needed to go out. He tried his phone; straight to voicemail, he didn't leave a message. He could hear Paddy or Hazel bumbling about downstairs; he would wait until much nearer one o'clock before he went downstairs, went out of the door.

Two minutes to one, escape; Paddy caught him in the kitchen, reminded him of his appointment for later on in the afternoon. He growled at him, passing on his way out, he looked across the road and down to the pub; he could see the door from where he stood at Smithy. He wondered if Jackson were already there.

He could feel his stomach churning as he stood at the door, his hand raised to push open the swing door to the bar. Why? his head screamed at him; it was only the Woollie – how many times had he walked through that door? Thousands...hundreds surely...it would be fine.

He pushed open the door, walked in; he could feel the tension in his fists, clenched at his side; in his chest, in the tight muscles at his jaw. His eyes flicked quickly around the bar; no Jackson, no anyone - no one that he wanted to avoid anyway.

He ordered his pint, lent against the bar, his eyes, his thoughts, lost in the glass in front of him. At every noise he turned, looking for Jackson; it wasn't long, five minutes; it felt like five hours, a lifetime; did his heart really skip a beat as he came through the door, their smiles meeting.

Aaron nodded to Bob, ordering a pint for Jackson as he moved close in beside him at the bar, their shoulder pushing briefly against each other in greeting.

Aaron could feel the tension leaving his body, his fists unclenching, his muscles relaxing.

They stayed at the bar, a few folk came in; it was pleasant, talking with each other, with other people, getting reacquainted with their local.

"Oh! You're back then!"

The strident tones cut like glass across the room to the bar.

Aaron turned, facing his mother; he shrugged, not trusting himself to speak.

"You're aw'right then?" Chas continued.

"Like you care," growled Aaron, quietly.

"What d'you mean? Course I care!"

"Oh yeah! So where have you been this last week! In here getting drunk! Chasing after Carl!" Eyes blazing now, his voice stayed low, icily controlled. "Where you've not been is anywhere near me! So just do one, mother!"

Jackson grabbed his arm, pulled him round, forcibly getting his attention, aware that Aaron could hardly see him through his anger and hurt; through the tears that were already beginning to flood into his eyes.

"Out of here! Move!" he whispered urgently; powerful now, exerting all his strength, Jackson dragged Aaron from the bar, pushing him in front of him through the door from the bar, pushing him in front of him into the gents loos.

Leaning up against the sinks, he could hold him now, pull him close into him, feel his body wracked with shuddering sobs, collapse against him. Running his hand down the back of Aaron's head, down his neck, rubbing, soothing, holding him tight, Jackson muttered comforting words, unsure what he was saying, knowing Aaron just needed to hear the sound of his voice, gentle and reassuring, being there. Slowly, slowly, his breathing steadied, his sobs quietened. Jackson changed his hold, let his hand brush away the tears tracked down his cheeks.

"Stay here a minute," he whispered, getting Aaron's nod of agreement before he left the room.

He went back into the bar; Chas was still there, sucking on the straw sticking up from her lager, looking more thoughtful, subdued, but still there, not following Aaron. Jackson shook his head in silent despair, fighting against the anger that threatened to overwhelm him for his lover's distress.

He walked up quietly beside her; "Outside, now!" he whispered.

"You what?" disbelief dripped through Chas's words.

"If you want even a chance to salvage something of your relationship with your son, you need to go after him. Now." Jackson's voice was quiet, but looking into his eyes, Chas saw a fire burning there.

Thumping her drink down on the bar, Chas stalked out through the swing doors, was about to head outside the pub itself.

"No," said Jackson, "he's in there." He nodded towards the gents.

"I can't go in there," squeaked Chas, "it's the gents."

Jackson paused, his hand about to push open the door.

"He's in bits, Chas, fucking bits!" He spoke quietly, his voice full of bitter anger at her behaviour. "You're his mother! You bang on about being his mother often enough. But you don't show him! He thinks you don't give a shit! You should have been there for him. If you don't get in there, now, you'll have lost him forever."

He pushed open the door; Aaron stood where he had left him, leaning against the sink; as the door opened, he turned towards it. He wasn't crying any more, but tears were trickling unheeded, unknown, down his face.

"Your son, Chas! Look at him! This is what you have done to him." Jackson didn't often lose his temper, but anger now fuelled his words.

"He was beaten unconscious, Chas! Beaten unconscious for loving me, protecting me! Do you want to see what they did to him? What you ignored!" Almost roughly, he pushed Aaron round, unresisting, away from him, he could feel the sobs beginning again, shaking his whole body, but he ignored them, he had to give Chas the chance to understand. Hauling on Aaron's tee shirt, he pulled it up, exposing the fading bruises still visible on his back; pushing Aaron again, pushing him to face Chas, exposing the tears coursing down his face, exposing the discolouration of his abdomen.

"They're more than a week old, Chas, these bruises; what do you think they looked like then? Black and blue? Black and blacker, Chas! And what you are seeing, now, on his back and chest, that's just a fraction of them." Turning away from Chas, he let Aaron's tee shirt fall back, pulling Aaron in to him, took him in his arms, let him sob the tears away in his arms, let the wracking sobs die in his comfort and embrace.

Jackson ignored Chas now; all he cared about was Aaron, held close. Gradually he felt Aaron grow calmer, his tears subsiding, his body quietening. Jackson moved to stand closely in front of Aaron, seeking his eyes, holding them with his own.

"I'll leave you just now...with Chas. But I won't be far away, I promise." It was hard, so hard for Jackson to pull away from Aaron, their hands reluctantly sliding apart. But he had to give Chas the chance to salvage something from the wreck of her son's love. A wreck borne of misunderstanding, perhaps, but built upon years of despair, from Aaron's experience, Aaron's life.

Pausing at the door, he looked back; he looked at the gulf between them, mother and son.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Jackson paused as the door swung shut behind him, emotion draining from him, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming him; he felt his body shaking in response. He went back to the bar only to pick up their two abandoned pints; Diane looked questioningly at him, but said nothing. Captured by her look, he said nothing in return, just shook his head, with disbelief, with despair, with a flood of emotions that he couldn't name.

Taking the two pints, he left the bar, he couldn't stay in the bar, he couldn't leave the pub, he couldn't be more than a few feet from Aaron. He took the pints outside, ignoring the wooden benches; he sat on the stone steps at the door, as close as the door as he could, lost in thoughts, fingering the amber circle at his neck.

Lost in thoughts that he couldn't follow, his mind stumbled from memory, to despair, to hope, to fear, wondering what might be happening, dreading what might be happening. He sipped the pint, not wanting it; wanting the function of it, a reason for being there, for just sitting, waiting...waiting...waiting.

...

The drying tears were stinging his face, where did they all come from, the tears; surely there must be a finite number of tears in a body, a finite number of tears to fall. He had cried so many tears in his life, so many tears in the last few days, his tears stretched into infinity. He watched Jackson leave, watched the door, not moving; ignoring the woman leaning against the wall, waiting.

He was only doing this for Jackson, because Jackson wanted him to give her a chance, believed she deserved a chance; another chance. He waited. He wished Jackson was with him, holding him.

"Aaron." She spoke quietly, her voice empty of its normal, shrill tone, breaking a little. "Son!"

"Don't! Don't you dare!" Anguish flared, pain and despair ripped through his body, reaching his lips as anger. "Don't you dare call me your son! You have never! _never!_ been a mam to me!"

Suddenly all the words filled with years of neglect, abandonment, confusion, began tumbling over themselves in their haste to escape, be spoken, be released into the relationship, into the absent relationship between two strangers.

Anger at first, disbelief, the death of hope, the clouds of his childhood; the reality of abandonment, the false reality of reunion. Sharing; sharing every remembered hurt, every rejection; holding nothing back; he was at his lowest, he could plummet no further, she could take herself no further away from him; he had nothing left to lose.

He told her everything, said everything he needed. He spoke to the wall, the ceiling, not looking at her, even as he spoke, as tears misted his eyes, he couldn't bring himself to search for her pain; he couldn't risk finding she had none.

After seconds, minutes, hours, the words dried up, the despair exhausted; he slumped, leaning against the sinks, needing their physical support. He waited, waited for her to say something as the silence between them lengthened into nothingness.

He needed to go now, get away, escape. He had tried, tried with everything that was in him, so much so that he could hardly move, hardly make his body obey him, respond to the need to leave. Pushing himself away from his support, steadying himself, he looked towards the door, reached for the door.

"Aaron!"

The whisper hardly reached him.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He looked then, looked at the woman he had been avoiding seeing; the wreck of his mother.

Crouched low against the wall, she had slid down, unaware, unnoticed, uncaring. Now, her fingers steepled at her lips, tears streaking her heavy mascara, her body was gripped by silent, gut-wrenching sobs.

She hadn't known, hadn't realised, hadn't understood what had been happening to him; her child, the boy, the man. In his life, in his head; places unknown to her, he was a foreign land, a hostile foreign land.

She waited for him to leave, to walk past her, to walk out of her life as she had walked out of his, with scarcely a backward glance.

Through her tears she didn't see him stop, didn't expect the feather-light touch on her shoulder, crouching, the strong arm gently pulling her in, holding her, waiting for her tears to still, her sobs to ease.

Holding her, he thought of Jackson, thought of the better man he made him. Thinking of Jackson allowed him to start a conversation, to start trying to understand, striving to forgive.

...

The two pint glasses beside him were empty now; Jackson had no recollection of tasting either, had no notion of the afternoon passing, of the afternoon standing still. With no eruption, no fireworks, he had moved to the nearest bench, close enough, within earshot. People had come and gone, a word or two disinterestedly exchanged; he wanted to speak to no one, he just need to listen, to be there.

He saw Paddy emerge from Smithy come towards him, come towards the pub, he wasn't sure which until he sat at the table, saying nothing, waiting.

"He's in there," said Jackson. "In the gents. "With Chas."

It took a moment for Paddy to register his words, to realise.

"With Chas! What? Were they...?" Worry, sudden concern flooded through Paddy, could be heard in his words.

"I hoped they could sort it out, Aaron was so bitter, so hurting..." Jackson spoke so quietly Paddy could hardly hear him. "But Chas just didn't seem to have a clue..."

"Should I go in there, do you think...see if they're alright?"

"We'd have heard if they were killing each other," said Jackson absentmindedly.

"You what! Killing each other! D'you really think they..." Paddy tripped over his words in sudden anxiety.

"No, Paddy, no," replied Jackson hastily. "It was just an expression."

"But do you think I should go in there. To check they're alright?"

No...yes...I don't know…I really don't."

Paddy stood, unsure what to do for the best; he knew how easily Aaron could lose his temper, be consumed by his anger before he stopped to think, to consider. And Chas! She didn't know the meaning of tact. He paced...sat again...stood, walked towards the door. Decision made.

He had reached the door into the Woollie when the door to the gents opened; he could feel a wave of anxiety flood through his body, dread at what might be coming out, into stark daylight.

Whatever he had expected, whatever he had dreaded, it wasn't to see Aaron emerge with his arm round Chas's shoulder, supporting her, comforting her, his lips moving although his words were quiet, inaudible.

"We need to get up to Smithy, Paddy. Jackson, help me."

It wasn't far, but the short walk was awkward as Aaron and Jackson between them helped Chas, guided her. Into the house, onto the sofa; carefully helping her to sit, to lie, Aaron drew a throw over her. She didn't notice as he backed away from her, into the kitchen, Jackson following him, his eyes questioning.

"I need to get out, Jay," he said, "come with me."

Unheeded, they slipped out of the door again, quickly walking past the surgery window, around the side of the cottage. Paddy appeared briefly at the surgery door, quickly enough to see Jackson look back, raise his hand, fingers splayed; five minutes. He clenched and unclenched his fist; ten minutes. He shrugged his shoulders, disappeared from Paddy's view.

Into the garden, over the fence into the field behind the cottage, Aaron walked quickly up the slope to the far corner before stopping, waiting for Jackson to catch him up, before being taken into Jackson's arms. No tears this time, just the need to be held, to feel safe, secure, not alone, not coping alone.

Then sitting on the grass, Aaron drew his knees up, his arms clasped around them

"We've both made mistakes, Jackson; massive ones. And I don't know if they can be fixed, if we can move beyond them."

Jackson knew it wasn't himself Aaron was speaking of, but Chas; he said nothing, waiting for Aaron to continue.

"She's my mother, but she can never be my mam, not now; she stopped being my mam the day she walked out, the day she left me with him." Aaron looked down at the grass, one hand sweeping through it now, picking at a stem or two.

"And she hasn't got a clue…about what she did, what it was like without her when she left. About all the gay stuff…and I'm not saying it's just her," suddenly his voice became urgent, needing to make Jackson understand, "I'm not…not easy…to…to…" he left the sentence hanging in the air. "But I just haven't got a warm, cosy feeling about her, and I can't conjure it up from thin air."

Jackson was about to speak when Aaron began speaking again.

"But I have to forgive her, don't I? I can. She made mistakes…but they were just mistakes…jeez! I make enough of them. Oh god! I really don't know what I am trying to say any more." He slid his hands over his face, rubbing his eyes.

"Don't worry, you're making perfect sense. Just do what is right for you," Jackson rubbed his hand across Aaron's shoulder, letting Aaron lean into him.

"She was hurting so much, Jackson; I never meant to do that."

"If she loves you, she'll take the pain she has caused you."

"She says she loves me, but she doesn't show me she loves me." Aaron's voice was quiet, reflective; trying to make sense of what seemed senseless. "We talked you know, things I'd never said before."

"That's good, isn't it?" asked Jackson as Aaron lapsed into silence.

"Yeah, but I don't think anything has changed, not yet."

"Give it time, it's been years, you can't expect to sort things out in an afternoon. But at least you've started talking."

"Talking!" Aaron gave a short, sharp humourless laugh. "I've talked so much, my head's mince. C'mon, lets get back or Paddy'll be sending out a search party."

They walked slowly back down the gentle slope to Smithy.

So much emotion for one afternoon, Aaron felt exhausted, his whole body drained, his bones felt liquid, fluid, hardly supporting him, perhaps he was floating, drifting back to Smithy. Nothing made sense; his thoughts were stumbling, tumbling over each other, caught in a whirl of confusion, muddle; what the hell had happened this afternoon?

Back into Smithy, in to the sitting room, to the empty sofa, the throw crumpled, discarded.

"Paddy. Paddy!" Aaron called, fear beginning to flood through his body. "Paddy! Where..."

"Sssh!" Paddy came into the room behind them. "She's in the kitchen, talking to Hazel. No! leave them!" he added as Aaron made to open the door. "Leave them. Get yourselves ready, I'll run you in to Hotton, to the doctors," he added, seeing the puzzlement cross Aaron's face.

"I don't think..." began Aaron, intending to cry off from the appointment.

"You're going, Aaron. Both of you are going," he looked between both lads; at the acceptance on Jackson's face, at the scowling truculence on Aaron's. "You're going. Let them have some space; today isn't over by a long shot."


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Aaron stared out of the window as the car pulled away from the surgery; he felt invaded, not quite clean, downright dirty. He had expected the appointment to be a mere formality; hand the letter over, say he was fine and out of the door. He hadn't expected to be asked to wait while the doctor read the letter, asked to provide another urine specimen, asked to remove his tee shirt, lie on the paper-covered couch, slide his trackkies low on his hips and allow bony, probing fingers to roam over his body.

Both he and Jackson were quiet on the return journey, each lost in their own thoughts. His head was still spinning with all the words that had been spoken, all the feelings, the emotions, which had been laid bare during the afternoon. A nagging feeling, dread and apprehension, gnawed at him as the car got closer to Emmerdale.

Paddy drew the car to a halt outside Smithy; he unclipped his seatbelt, opened his door, made to climb out of the car. Beside him, Aaron didn't move, neither did Jackson in the backseat. He closed his door.

"Ri...ight," he said slowly, wondering if an explanation was coming or if he would have to search for one. "Am I missing something here?"

"I shouldn't have said anything, Paddy," said Aaron quietly. "I didn't need to do that to her. I could've just pretended that everything was okay."

"No Aaron!" said Paddy quickly.

"You had to say something!" Jackson's voice chimed with Paddy's. "It was too deep...you were hurting to much not to," he continued, leaning forward, resting his hand on Aaron's shoulder, feeling his head lean slightly, his cheek rub against his hand.

Aaron rubbed his cheek against Jackson's hand resting on his shoulder, a small gesture of gratitude, recognising his support. His head was in turmoil, his thoughts tumbling; he felt...how did he feel? Caught...out of his depth...unsure how to return to safety. If he had never said anything...well...what would have changed? He would have been no worse off than he had been; he had managed for years without Chas after she left. He could have allowed her to think she was his mam. He could have hidden the gaping hole in his heart where the love for his mother should be...couldn't he?

"I don't think I can face..." he began.

"No! You have to go in," said Paddy, interrupting him before he put the thought fully into words. "We all have to go in. It'll be...be fine."His lips firmly together, determined, he nodded at Aaron.

Jackson made the first move to leave the car; he felt numb, he couldn't imagine how Aaron felt. He felt guilty too; he shouldn't have pushed Aaron into speaking to Chas, he should have just comforted Aaron then left it, left it and they would have got over their row in the pub. But no, he thought he knew best, thought they needed to talk, really talk. And it all went horribly wrong when he saw how hurt Aaron was. Without looking back, he slammed the door of the car and walked towards Smithy.

Aaron knew he couldn't hide; he would have stayed in the car all evening if he could, but he knew Paddy wouldn't let him, would prevent his escape, would make him face the chaos he had created. Hearing Jackson get out of the back of the car, seeing him walk towards the door, he made haste to follow him, hard on his heels as he walked through the door into the house.

The living room was empty but they could hear voices in the kitchen; Aaron pushed in front of Jackson, stood in the doorway, stood until they noticed him. Two bottles of wine stood on the worktop, one already empty; Hazel and Chas were sitting at the table, nursing glasses, debris, the suggestion of cooking, littered the table between them.

"Boys!" said Hazel, noticing them first. "We have had a glass or two of wine; however we are not, not! drunk. Now, we are going to have a nice, family meal; I've made cottage pie. Well it might be shepherd's pie, but I never fancy the thought of eating shepherd."

Aaron looked at Chas, sitting at the table, her eyes downcast; he caught her eyes flicking up towards him, not holding his glance. She looked different, he couldn't place it at first, although a certain puffiness at her eyes reminded him of her tears. The tears he had caused. Her eyes; they were wiped clean of her usual heavy mascara, she looked younger, softer; he looked away, he couldn't bear to look any longer.

"Lager, boys? Paddy?" Hazel asked the question as she was reaching into the fridge, retrieving the cans, handing them out, determinedly catching Jackson's eye as she did so.

It was a look he knew well; Jackson saw the glimmer of steel, of resolve in Hazel's eye as she handed him the can. She might have a glow, an aura of ease about her, but she was far from having had much to drink at all. Tread gently, her look said, make sure Aaron treads gently.

The meal was quiet, Hazel and Paddy carrying the conversation, talking about nothing, talking about everything, talking to hide the raging silence. The evening drew on, twilight was easier, shadows were for hiding in. Unasked, Chas began to gather the plates, take them through to the kitchen.

Aaron watched her, wanted to move, to go to her; he tensed, struggling to fight against the turmoil, the churning nerves suddenly twisting in his stomach. Next to him, Jackson put his hand gently, reassuringly, on his leg, his movement hidden in the shadows of the dimly lit room. Their eyes meeting, Jackson nodded.

Aaron followed Chas into the kitchen, quietly closed the door behind him, stood against it, looking down at the floor, not knowing what he was going to say, how to begin, how to help.

Even without turning, Chas knew he had followed her; could feel his presence behind her, was waiting for him to speak...but perhaps he wasn't going to say anything. Perhaps he realised he had made a mistake following her. Perhaps this was the moment she lost her son for good. Maybe it was up to her now.

"Aaron," she whispered, trying to be the grown-up, trying to continue the conversation.

"Mam! I'm so sorry!" He took a step, two steps towards her, reaching her, stopping, unsure what to do next. "I should never have said those things this afternoon."

"No! No Aaron! You should! You had to say them! I had to hear them! I needed to hear them, to understand, to try and understand," quiet anguish tore through her urgent words; she needed to tell him, to make him understand that none of it, none of it! was his fault. She had been wrong, so wrong, so many times over the years and the price she was paying now was the loss of her son.

"I have made so, so many mistakes, Aaron, so many times. And now I don't know what to do to put it right, if it can ever be put right, if you can ever forgive me."

Even in the dimness of the kitchen, for now lit only by a small lamp, he could see the tears flowing unheeded down her face again, unaware that matching tears were flooding his own eyes, ready to fall, releasing his pain, his years of fear and loneliness.

Forgiveness. He heard it echoing through his head even as the words formed on his lips. Reaching out, his hand touched her shoulder, slid a little down her arm, pulled her towards him.

"Oh mam! Of course I forgive you...they were just mistakes, weren't they? Just mistakes."

"But they were some bloody big ones!" she sobbed.

Aaron moved towards the table, pulled out a chair for her, guided her to it, then turned back to the worktops, found another glass of wine for her, took another can of lager from the fridge for himself. He sat, holding the can without opening it, thinking, wondering how to ask the questions he needed, to accept the answers he heard.

"Why didn't you come...after...after...you know?" There! the words were said, had left his lips, could not be unsaid. He closed his eyes, unable to look at her now, dreading the answer. It felt as though everything were hanging on the thread of her answer, his life, who he was, who he might become.

"I didn't think you needed me," her whisper was barely audible. "You had Paddy, and Hazel, Jackson. I waited for you to call, text. When you didn't...I thought you didn't want or need me. Cain and Paddy both said I should just go. But I was too proud, proud and so foolish."

Aaron sat, playing with his can, thinking about what she had said, wishing he had just sent her a text, although he knew at the time, when he was in the hospital he had not wanted her loud, overwhelming presence; he had wanted Paddy and the nurturing, mothering from Hazel had unexpectedly comforted him. But he hadn't asked her to come, even later, and perhaps he should have done.

"I'm sorry, I should have called, text. I think I just wanted a fairytale."

"I'll never be a fairytale, but I'd like to try to be a better mother, if you can let me?"

Chas held her breath, waiting for his reply, waiting for him to stay in her life or leave.

"I think maybe I should try to be a better son, too," he whispered, looking into her eyes at last.


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

It was full dark when the front door of Smithy clicked shut behind them several hours later; many of the cottages in the street were already in darkness for the night. In the aftermath of emotion, Aaron had said little more to Chas, but the atmosphere during the remainder of the evening had been lighter; lightness felt by them all, reflected in the easing of hearts, the easing of anxiety.

Aaron walked down the path in front of Chas but waited for her at the road. Now that he had offered to walk her down to Mill Cottage, he felt awkward, unsure what to say, if he should say anything at all, if silence, polite nothingness, would be more awkward than confused words. A step, two steps, his mind tripped over itself, testing words, running phrases through his head, wanting to say something, anything, a touch of reassurance after the emotional turmoil of the day.

Suddenly Chas veered away from the road, towards the bench on the small green at the Post Office. She sat, her arms clasped tight around her, rocking her body against the chill of the late evening, disguising the tremble of nerves running through her, suddenly alone with her son.

He sat beside her, leaving a space between them, allowing them both space. Gazing down the street, he waited now, wondering if she was going to speak, letting her gather her thoughts in peace.

"Thank you," she said quietly, not looking at him, looking beyond him, looking into the distance, seeing nothing.

"For what?" his voice was tinged with sadness; what did she have to thank him for? For destroying her image of their relationship, of herself as a mother, his mother. For destroying her. At that moment he couldn't move, couldn't turn to look at her, he kept his eyes fixed, staring down the road, watching the lights flickering in the windows of the Woollie.

"For talking...it's not easy...talking...about how you feel about things. For making me understand...for drumming it into my thick skull because I sure as hell wouldn't have seen it otherwise and giving stupid, _stupid!_ me another chance." Her voice caught as she spoke, she took a deep, noisy, steadying breath in.

"Oh Aaron! I'm so sorry! You deserved so much better than me."

"Don't. No more, not tonight. My head's just mince!" He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, the palms of his hands rubbing against his face. "Today has been...something else."

He turned then, to face her at last.

"I can't do this anymore tonight. And just now I can't think how we can move on – but we will," he added quickly, seeing her face beginning crumble at his words. "We will," he nodded, emphasising his words. "But not tonight, eh. Tomorrow is a new day."

"You won't regret it, giving me another chance," Chas said hastily.

" No," replied Aaron. "It's not just about me giving you a chance. It's about both of us, finding our way through everything...the baggage...and seeing what's left. Beginning again with what's left."

Chas shivered, was it the evening chill or the enormity of his words; in the turmoil of her mind she wasn't sure what he was saying? Was he even sure himself? Was she hearing finality in what his words, the end? But he still wanted her, as his mam, didn't he? Surely that was what he was saying. She wanted to believe that; she had to believe that there was still hope, allow belief in it to flow through her veins, giving her strength.

Aaron stood up; he felt drained, exhausted, he just wanted to close his eyes and welcome sleep. He held out his hand to her, a small, hesitant smile touching the corners of his lips.

"C'mon, it's late; let's get you home, mam. It will get better; I promise."

They walked down the road in silence, a more comfortable quietness now, a silence infused with optimism, with promise, with the knowledge of shared good will, with hope.

Reaching Mill Cottage, they stood for a moment, awkward again at parting. Suddenly, unexpectedly, Aaron pulled her into an embrace, felt her tense against his body before relaxing, returning the hug. She pulled away quickly, before he did, but stood a moment, her hands gripping his arms, gazing into his face in the darkness, before finally releasing him.

Saying nothing, words were not needed just now, she turned, walked up the path, into the house, leaving Aaron alone, watching her go.

He stood for a minute, perhaps more, before turning, heading quickly back up the street. As he neared Smithy he saw a shadow move behind the front window, seconds later the door opened, a sudden oblong of light, quickly filled with a dark shape before being closed completely.

Jackson came down the path towards him; he had seen them sitting on the bench, seen them walking away, down to Mill Cottage, then had been watching for Aaron's return. Saying nothing, he took him by the arm, pulled him into the bus shelter, then turned, took him into his arms and just held him.

Aaron shed no tears, felt no flood of overwhelming emotion, but he welcomed Jackson's arms enclosing him, folding him into his security, his warmth, resting his head on his shoulder, letting Jackson rub the back of his head, comforting him.

"Do you want to go in yet?" Jackson asked. "Paddy and my mum are still up; and the vino has been flowing while you were out."

"Oh god! I really don't want to face them just now," groaned Aaron. "Let's stay here for a bit." He flung himself full length on the bench seat, lifting his head again as Jackson slid in next to him, then resting his head back down on Jackson's lap.

Lying with his eyes closed, he tried to empty his mind of the day, think of nothing, feeling only Jackson's fingers running through his short, spiky hair, sliding lower, touching his ear, tickling his ear.

"Oh Jackson! go and leave my ears alone," he murmured quietly.

"Oh! but you've got such cute little ears," Jackson teased. "And they are just so tickly!" He ran his fingers over Aaron's ear, barely touching it, feeling him wriggle beneath him. Moving slightly, he lent over, found Aaron's mouth with his own and kissed him.

Aaron shifted a little, onto his side, raising his shoulder, resting on his lower elbow, allowing him to pull Jackson closer, deepen the kiss. His tongue eased its way gently between Jackson's lips, his teeth, pushing against his tongue, twisting together, dancing against each other. Pulling apart to catch their breath, they smiled at each other.

Breaking the moment, Jackson spoke.

"You okay? I'm sorry I kinda pushed things today."

"Nah, you're fine," Aaron lay back down as he had been, although this time keeping one of Jackson's hand clasped in his own. "I probably would have just gone on the same old way forever, always resenting what she did. It's better to sort it."

"And are you? Sorting it?"

"Well, we're beginning to; we said some pretty hateful things to each other, but we've begun talking, really talking, which is more than I thought would ever happen. But like you said; it took years to get to this point and won't be fixed in an afternoon. But I feel better about her than I did a few hours ago."

Jackson nodded but said nothing more.

The comfortable silence stretched a minute, two minutes, before Aaron sat up.

"C'mon. We've got a huge new bed waiting for us in there," he nodded in roughly the direction of Smithy. "Let's try and avoid Paddy and Hazel, sneak in."

A minute later, quietly opening the front door, they could hear Hazel holding forth, with odd mumbled replies from Paddy. Forgetting to be quiet, Aaron pushed the door loudly shut behind him. Hearing their names called, they froze, then suddenly, unexpectedly bursting into giggling laughter, they rushed up the stairs to their bedroom, inside, closing the door behind them, collapsing now onto their wonderful new bed, still laughing.

It took a matter of minutes, less, for them to lose their clothes, be under the cover, holding each other, holding, kissing; gentle, tender kisses of comfort. Aaron snuggled deeper into Jackson's arms, relishing the feeling of bare naked skin held so close to bare naked skin.

"Thank you," he whispered, turning his head, placing a kiss on Jackson's chest.

"What for," asked Jackson, puzzled

"For holding me, being here for me. For the last couple of weeks, for the last few months, for putting up with me...do you want me to go on?" he paused. "For being in my world..."

"That's a bit deep, for this time of night, after the day you've had."

"I mean it, Jay, these few months we've been together, so much has changed. I've changed so much, and it's all because of you."

"No, you would have got there, you couldn't have helped yourself."

"Jay?" his voice was quiet, hesitant. "Can we just cuddle tonight? D'you mind?"

"Don't be daft, course I don't mind," he replied, his voice gentle. "You are in my bed, in my arms, in my heart; what more could I want?"

"My body?"

"Always. But tonight I'll just hold you, wait for you to fall asleep in my arms and know we have forever to love; to make love."

...

_Right! I think I am going to leave 'Summer' there. Thanks for all your reviews, here and on DS. I've enjoyed writing, hope you've enjoyed reading. G.x _


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